Futility Is Not A Virtue
by IKnowHowToPoop
Summary: The hunt for the Horcruxs' become reality and Harry learns the difference between having to live and choosing to live. But will it be enough to lead him to his final confrontation with Lord Voldemort? Post HBP.
1. Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

_Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore_

Shadows flickered across the walls, dancing eerily onward as their owner's moved ahead. The torches set in heavy metal brackets across the wall were extinguished one by one as the two silent figures walked along the way. The only sound made was the faint 'tap' of their echoing footsteps as they slowly progressed through the chamber.

They stopped momentarily, the taller of the two withdrawing a long, wooden wand from the inside of his robes. Muttering softly to himself, he tapped the wall in front of them, stepping back quickly when it sprang to life. The bricks cracked and groaned, folding into themselves to reaveal another small chamber, completely encased in darkness.

"Go, Draco," the taller said, clutching the smaller figure's shoulder and forcibly steering him through the doorway.

The younger one, Draco, took a few tentative steps forward, his hands trembling violently. Stuffing them in the sleeves of his robes, he took a few more steps, fumbling around in the darkness for secure footing.

"Come, Draco. Kneel before your master," a voice hissed coldly. Draco's spine went rigid, and he felt as if all the warmth had been sufficently sucked from the room. Blinking against the harsh glare of bright light that erupted from the other side of the room, he swallowed hard. Stepping forward, he dropped to his knees, his forehead nearly touching the ground. He waited silently for his master to speak again.

"Severus has informed me of your triumph over Dumbledore," the voice continued, no more than a sinister whisper. Draco squeezed his eyes shut, trying to keep his teeth from chattering as another wave of cold swept through the room. The light near his master flickered briefly, but then strengthened, returning some of the stolen warmth.

"Yes, my Lord," Draco whispered hoarsely, feeling a cold shiver crawl up his spine. He heard footsteps, but he didn't dare look up without permission. He felt the sweep of fabric near his head, and he realized with a start that his master was standing above him. Opening his eyes, he stared silently at the ground, his breath coming in harsh pants.

"Look at me, boy." Draco raised his head slowly, eyes traveling upward to clash with the red, slitted ones of his master. "Do you think me a fool?" Draco felt the shiver race up his spine once again, and he mutely shook his head, fighting desperately to keep his breathing controlled.

"No, my Lord," he replied, his voice cracking. He saw a flicker of amusement pass over the haunting face of his Lord. And then he chuckled, the sound filled with sarcasm. Draco licked his lips, swallowing once more when his master reached into his robes. Withdrawing a wand, much like that of his former companions, he pointed it down at Draco.

"Give me your wand, Draco." Raising himself just a few inches, so as not to push his luck with his master, he reached a trembling hand into his own robes, withdrawing the wand stashed inside. Clutching it till his knuckles turned white, he offered it to his master, gasping softly when he saw the pleasant look on his Lord's face. He took Draco's wand, turned on his heel, and moved forward a few paces, bringing his own wand level with other.

The Dark Lord mumbled something softly to himself, and there was a flash of light that ricocheted from Draco's wand. It collided with the Lord's wand, sending it spiraling into the air, clattering to the floor some feet across the dimly lit chamber. Slowly, with a neutral expression on his face, Draco's master turned to face him.

"I do not tolerate disobedience, Draco. I'm fully aware that Severus holds the wand that defeated the great Dumbledore. Now, boy, come," the Dark Lord said softly, his voice a silky whisper as he beckoned Draco with a regal wave of his hand. Draco stumbled forward blindly, eyes still averted to the floor, every ounce in his being shaking in uncontrollable fear.

"Will you not beg for mercy?"

The Dark Lord's words reverbrated off the walls, entering Draco's ears for a second time. He felt a small inflation of defiance, but he quickly quelled it when his master raised Draco's own wand against.

"P-please, my Lord, have mercy for this undeserving servant," Draco whispered, the words sounding mechanical and forced even as he shook with fear. The Dark Lord released his breath sharply, and Draco took it to be some foreign sound of amusement.

"Is that the best you can do, boy?" Draco gritted his teeth. It was painfully obvious that the Lord was enjoying himself immensely, and he fought hard to keep his fury bridled. He was a _Malfoy_, and none, not even the Dark Lord, had the standing to talk to him as such!

"I beg of you, my Lord, have mercy," he whispered once again, afraid that if he raised his voice anymore, it would bely his inner turmoil. "Have mercy," he repeated, crawling forward to clutch a fistful of his master's robes. He lowered his lips to them briefly, feeling a rolling wave of disgust wash through him. Is this what his father had done on so many occasions? Groveled like some common house Elf?

"Foolish, foolish boy. _Crucio!_" Draco felt his limbs bend inwards, and then flexing out in all different directions, sendingjolts of pain throughout his entire body. He bit down hard on his lip to keep from crying out as anotherspasm of pain sent asearing heatthrough his body. He felt as if his bones were being torn from their sockets, limb by painful limb . . .

And then it stopped. He fell to the floor, ignoring the pathetic feeling in the pit of his stomach. Running his tongue over his dried lips, he sampled the irony taste of his own blood. Groaning softly, he closed his eyes, feeling a sudden spell of fatigue.

"To your knees, Draco." Complying with his Lord's wishes, he raised himself up, albeit with much effort, ignoring the impulse to spit at his master's feet. "I will not tolerate your impertinece again, boy. Now go. And remember, Draco," he tossed over his shoulder, the dim light in front of him slowly starting to disappate, "Those who please their Lord are justly rewarded. However, those who fail receive the same." He tossed Draco's wand at his feet.

And then the red, glowing eyes were upon him, and Draco resisted the urge to cringe at the sight. He bowed his head, fully understanding the unspoken warning. With that, he slipped out of the chamber, not daring to look back.

* * *

Harry Potter stared blankly at the placid lake, his eyes glazed and distant behind wire rimmed glasses. He was sweating profusely, the underarms of his uniform damp with perspiration, and the sleeves of his robes stuck to his arm. He made no move to leave his spot to find shade, though. He had been standing there for quite some time, apparently lost in thought. 

How many people would die because of him? How many would perish because they had the bravery to resist? When would it all end? In the distance he could see Albus Dumbledore's tomb, the sheer whiteness of it glittering brightly in the afternoon sun. He felt a sudden wrenching in his stomach, and he closed his eyes, looking away.

Sighing to himself, he turned on the spot, starting a low, leisurely pace toward the entrance to Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Dumbledore's last will would be read soon and, although he still had plenty of time, he wanted to be there first.

Making his way through the familiar winding paths, he kept silent, ignoring the variety of looks he was receiving from other students. School would let out the day after the reading of the will, much to Harry's releif. He had no qualms about leaving so early; he was loathe to stay even as long as today.

". . .think Albus left Potter?"

Harry froze, his heartbeak rapidly speeding up as he flattened himself against the wall behind the statue of Gregory the Smarmy. The voice, the familiar squeak of Professor Flitwick, was coming closer, and he drewa breath in, peeking under the statue's arm as far as he dared.

"I've no idea, to be honest, Filius. Knowing Albus, something not preferrably of the normal." The second voice belonged to Minerva McGonagall, whom Harry could see now looming over Flitwick. There was a pause before they spoke again, their voices hushed and hollow.

"Poor boy. Albus was very fond of him. Quite understandably, I believe all of us were. 'Tis a shame Albus will not return. He will be sorely missed," Flitwick said, a tone of wistfullness in his voice. There was a sound of agreement from McGonagall before they disappeared around a corner.

Harry let his breath out slowly, sliding out from behind the statue quickly. Dumbledore had left him something in his will? He frowned at the spot where Flitwick and McGonagall had been, unsure as to what Albus Dumbledore would possibly have left him. Maybe something to do with the Horcruxes?

"Harry!"

He turned, silently observing the approaching form of Neville Longbottom. The boy stopped in front of him, bending slightly as he panted and gasped for breath. "Harry, I was just sent by McGonagall," Neville said quickly, taking a gulp of air. "Said she wanted to see you in her office," Neville finished, looking up at Harry.

"Thanks, Neville," Harry said distantly, nodding his thanks before turning back in the direction Flitwick and McGonagall had gone. He had a guess as to what McGonagall was going to tell him, but he didn't voice it as he stopped to knock on her door. She gave him entrance, and he opened the door, turning to stare curiously at her.

He hadn't been able to get a proper look at her when she was passing, and what he saw now caused him a slight bit of unease. Her hair was unkempt and wild, strands falling into her face from the severe bun holding it back. Her hat was on her dask, wrinkled and damp with sweat, and her robes were rumpled and wrinkly, as if she had slept in them.

"Close the door, Potter," she said, hands folded in her lap as she stared at the witch's hat in front of her. Harry closed the door softly, frowning as he did so. "Take a seat." She inclined her head to the chair in front of her desk, and he approached it cautiously, the slight unease turning into fear as he noticed the troubled look on her face.

"Professor, what's wrong?" he asked hesitantly, gripping the arms of the chair very tightly when her lips thinned drastically.

"Potter, I am afraid I have bad news," McGonagall said quietly, lifting her eyes to meet his own. She stared at him for a moment, causing Harry's chest to tighten considerably. "You are aware of the work Remus Lupin has been conducting?" she asked solemnly. Harry looked up sharply, straining a muscle in his neck.

"What happened to Lupin?" he demanded, standing up and letting the chair fall back. He ignored thedisapproving look she gave himas he clenched his teeth. Lupin had said he'd been working with the werewolves, to try and persuade them to come to the good side.

"He was . . . attacked," McGonagall said evenly, faltering slightly as she fumbled around for an accurate word. Before she had the chance to say anything else, Harry's voice interrupted her.

"Is he . . ." Harry trailed off, closing his eyes as he looked away, taking a deep breath. He couldn't bring himself to say it, as likely as it was. Werewolves were viscious creatures by nature, and they would kill even their best mate during the night of a full moon.

"No, and I would appreciate it, Mr. Potter, if you did not destroy my furniture," McGonagall replied, watching as Harry's expression crumpled into one of relief. He picked the chair back up, giving her a sheepish look as he seated himself once again. "He is, however, severly injured. He is currently at St. Mungo's, recovering under the care of trained professionals," she said, rearranging her hands.

Harry remained silent for some time, a gaurded expression on his face. When it became apparent that McGonagall was no longer going to say anything, he stood up. "Will that be all, Professor," he asked, hand on the back of the chair.

"No, Potter. There is also another matter we must discuss. It includes Professor Dumbledore's will," McGonagall said briskly, a strange wetness coming into her eyes as she shuffled around some papers on her desk. Harry looked guiltily at the floor, scuffing the toe of his shoe along the tile.

"I already know, Professor," he said quietly, ignoring the look of exasperation she gave him. "I heard you and Professor Flitwick when you were walking by," he added meekly, swalloing audibly.

"Very well, then, Potter. You may leave. I suggest you hurry down to the Great Hall. The reading of the will begins shortly," she said, dismissing him with a nod of her head. Harry muttered a quiet thanks, making his way out the door and down the corridor. He needed to find Ron and Hermione, his best friends, to tell them about Lupin.

He stepped into the doorway of the Great Hall, and stopped in his tracks. Rows upon rows of students were seated at the four tables, Houses sitting together, even students from Slytherin mingling with the others, all wearing their school robes. Nota single person said anything as he stepped inside, giving the room at large a shocked look. This many students, even Slytherin, and those that had doubted his word of Voldemort's return, had showed up to pay their final respects to their Headmaster. He felt the sickening knot in his stomach once again, and he quickly made his way over to the farthest table, seating himself silently.

He sat quietly, studying the drawn faces of the students around them. Hardly anyone spoke, and even if they did, it was only to ask if a seat was taken, or if anyone knew when the will would start. In a far corner, though , he caught sight of Blaise Zabini, his head close to that of another Slytherin's. They threw Harry a scathing look, their eyes full of hate, before turning and continuing their hushed conversation. Harry felt a jolt of rage that they would disrespect Dumbledore, but he had no chance to object, for a short, squat wizard lumbered in the Hall, stopping at the door, his face a near replica of Harry's.

A few other lagging students came after him, Ron and Hermione included. "Oi, mate," Ron said miserably, slipping into the seat beside him. Hermione just gave his hand a small squeeze, smiling gently at him. It was then that Harry remembered what McGonagall had told him, and he leaned over, tapping Hermione on the shoulder. She looked up expectantly.

"Harry?" she asked quietly, frowning deeply when Harry took a deep breath.

"It's about Lupin," Harry said, noticing that Ron's head whipped around, his eyes wide and full of interest. "He's been attacked, and he's at St. Mungo's," Harry added, nodding grimly when Hermione gasped softly.

"Is he okay?" she asked, her voice full of concern. Harry nodded, glancing at Ron. His face had lost most of it's pallor, and his freckles looked likeapatch of red splotches on his face. He swallowed, his lips thinning.

"I'll explain later," Harry muttered, noticing that the wizard who had walked in was trying to get the attention of the students.

He started to say something, but his voice barely made it to those closest to him, and he whipped his wand out, pointing it at his throat and muttering "_Sonorous_" before clearing his throat. It echoed loudly through the silent room, and he smiled slightly at the students closest to him who winced, drawing their hands over their ears.

"Welcome," the wizard said, waddling forward toward the front of the Hall. He stopped when he was in front of the professors' table, turning to face them with a grim face as he conjured a podium with another flick of his wand. After muttering something else, arather large stack of papers appeared on the podium as well.

"Welcome," he repeated, "to the reading of theLast Will and Testimony of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. My name is Gregory Himlet, and I will be conducting all business affairs related to Mister Dumbledore's Last Will and Testimony . . ." Harry saw movement near the back of the Hall, and his eyes narrowed as a man with a silvery beard much like Dumbledore's leaned against the wall, his hands folded primly in front of him. Harry turned his attention back to the front.

". . .in his Last Will and Testimy, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore left all accounted for property," the squat wizard held up a slip of parchment with a stamp marked on it, "to Aberforth Dumbledore." There was a ringing silence in the room as the man looked around, his brows furrowing as he tapped his fingernails against the podium he had conjured for himself.

Harry's eyes widened when the wizard he had spotted entering late stood from the wall, striding mutely to the front of the room. He spoke a few quiet words with Himlet. Aberforth Dumbledore accepted the slips of parchment and turned briskly, ignoring the shocked look of some of the students. He stopped when he reached Harry.

"Harry Potter," Aberforth greeted, his voice gruff and unkind, very unlike Dumbledore's calm, even voice. Harry stared at him, unsure as to what the older wizard wanted. Without another word, Aberforth walked rigidly toward the entrance, folding the slips of parchment and tucking them into his robes as he left. Harry blinked a few times, moving his eyes back to Himlet, who was droning on about services Dumbledore wished to have done in his death. McGonagall, Flitwick, and almost every other teacher at Hogwart's recieved a few of Dumbledore's belongings, many of which Harry recognized from his office. Even Kingsley Shacklebot was present to receive a small letter and a mysterious looking box that was bolted shut.

Harryswallowed, once again hit with the overwhelming truth. Dumbledore's will clarified it vividly in his mind; no longer would twinkling blue eyes look at him kindly, no longer would words of wisdom be offered to him for the taking, no longer would he have the safety and security of knowing that there was a man out there that the greatest Dark wizard of all times feared. Dumbledore was gone. He was _never_ coming back.

Feeling a sting in his eyes, Harry blinked several times, glad that Hermione and Ron had their attention on the squat wizard. Ron had his hands fisted tightly, squinting at Himlet, almost as if he couldn't see. Hermione was staring at him, transfixed, as if absorbing every word. It was then that Himlet stopped, his eyes coming to rest on Harry.

"In his Last Will and Testimony, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore has left this. . ." There was a collective draw of breath around the room as Himlet withdrew a small envelope from the pile on his podium. "To a Mr. Harry James Potter. It is to be opened and read by none but Mr. Potter himself," the wizard added, beckoning to Harry. He stood reluctantly, aware of Blaise Zabini's sneer as he took the envelope silently from Himlet.

Ignoring Hermione's curious look, he stuffed the envelope in the insides of his robes, turning his attention back to the reading.

After another continuous hour, after which many students had nodded off, their hands holding their heads up, Himlet drew a deep breath, finally bowing his head. "Let us all, in unison, bow our heads in respect of one of the world's greatest wizards." Harry didn't think that such a sentance had been included in Dumbledore's will, and he felt his respect for Himlet rise a few notches as he obediently lowered his head.

There was complete silence throughout the room. Not even Zabini or his Slytherin friends dared to speak as they all revered the great being that was Dumbledore. Harry squeezed his eyes shut, his hand moving to clutch the envelope tightly. Himlet raised his head, clearing his throat once again. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse and scratchy, as if he were on the verge of tears.

"The reading of the Last Will and Testimony of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore has henceforth concluded. You may take your leave," he finished, grabbing a fistful of robes and dabbing at his eyes. Harry remained where he was, waiting for the rest of the students to file out. Hermione gave him a concerned look, but he ignored it, his hand still firmly holding Dumbledore's envelope.

"Harry," Hermione said quietly, putting her hand on his arm. "Are you all right?" He nodded jerkily, standing up quickly when Ron opened his mouth to speak.

"I'm . . . going for a walk," he said abruptly, nearly sprinting out of the Hall. He kept a hurried pace, shoving past students and teachers alike as he made his way out of the school. Walking quickly down past the Herbology greenhouses, he stopped when he reached the charred remains of Hagrid's hut.

Blinking several times to avoid the wetness in his eyes, he tried to swallow the lump in his throat. When it seemed to no avail, he clutched the envelope tighter, bringing it out of his robes to study it. Just a simple envelope with his name, 'Harry', written on the front. He reached down, his hands trembling, as he slit the top with his finger.

There were two pieces of parchment inside, each filled with Dumbledore's loopy, slanted handwriting. Harry felt his chest tighten once again, and he felt the parchment crumple slightly as he gripped it tightly in his hands.

_Harry,_

_If you are reading this, then I am, in simple words, no longer there. How my death may have occured is of no consequence of what I am going to tell you. And I tell you this, Harry:_

_Do not spend the entirety of your time hunting down whomever has managed to best me. To devote yourself to such a thing will only lead to your demise. I am asking of you, Harry, on behalf of yourself and I, do not do this. _

_As it is impossible to determine the time of my own fall, I have no idea whether the information I am going to present to you can be useful or not. But, as I have written this letter upon our last meeting in my office, it is likely._

_Contact my brother, Aberforth. He will present to you, should you show him the second parchment, hopefully, what I believe to be a Horcrux. Now, you may question as to why you are just now finding out about this yourself, but, do remember, the time I have written this. Please, Harry, do not read the second piece of parchment. I am trusting you with such vital information, and I expect as much trust in return to simply give him the letter. _

_You would ask me, Harry, how I know Aberforth has the Horcrux, do you not? You remember the troubling news you brought me of Mundungus Fletcher and his theivery of the items of Grimmauld Place? Such news gave me the lead on which to find this information. Aberforth will explain all proceeding from there._

_Alas, Harry, now that I am finished with my pleas, I give you my last lesson as a professor. It is this:_

_Live. Perhaps my death has taught you that forever is not a possibility. You have been deprived the normalcy of a childhood, and it is likely that your fame, albeit unwanted, will deprive you of many other things, but do not let that stop you from simply living. We humans take so much for granted._

_While this may seem like the ramblings of a senile old man, Harry, do heed what I say. There is nothing better than the joy of living and loving, and being loved in return. Do not let the Prophecy deprive you of life._

_As I could, no doubt, go on forever with this letter, I will end it here. I leave you with these words, Harry Potter. I was very fond of you, and it is perhaps one of my biggest regrets that I can not be there to watch you grow, as I should have been. Stick with your friends, Harry, and keep to your morals. Do not let another run the only life you have to live._

_Sincerely, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore_

Harry choked on his breath, realizing he was sobbing uncontrollably, the tears dropping to the parchment held in his shaking hands. He folded the parchment, along with the other for Aberforth, up neatly, placing it back in the envelope.

He didn't know how long he stayed out there, his gaze fixed on the Forbidden Forest looming ahead, tears streaming down his face. Darkness had already fallen, and the stars were shining brightly by the time he made his way back up to the castle. Ron and Hermione would be worried to death, and he was amazed that they had not come looking for him.

As Harry climbed the many steps to spend his final night in Gryffindor tower, he inwardly wondered whether he would be able to find all the Horcruxes and destroy Voldemort for good. He would have to learn many things, of that he was sure. And whether he even lived or not . . .

As he passed a painting of two young people sitting on a hill, the sun rising slowly, he remembered a conversation he had had with Dumbledore.

_"You are protected, in short, by your ability to love!"_

_"In spite of all the temptation you have endured, all the suffering, you remain pure of heart, just as pure as you were at the age of eleven, when ou stared into a mirror that reflected your heart's desire, and it showed you only the way to thwart Lord Voldemort, and not immortality or riches."_

_"Voldemort should have known then what he was dealing with, but he did not!"_

Harry only hoped that what Dumbledore had said was true.

* * *

_Lol! I love using Dumbledore's full name, hence the title of the chapter. I just absolutely love it for some reason. I guess just a random thing!_


	2. Hogwarts, Now History

_Hogwarts, Now History_

"Oi, Harry, didn't see you this morning."

Ron sat down next to Harry at the Gryffindor table, his face drawn and somber. Harry simplynodded, pushing his eggs around on his plate. He wasn't very hungry, and although he had tried to eat, he just didn't seem capable. Ron didn't even bother to reach for food as he propped his chin up in his hands, staring thoughtfully at his pumpkin juice.

"You reckon they'll reopen the school for the other students?" Ron asked quietly, drawing Harry's attention. He shrugged, finally giving up and shoving his plate away from him.

"I doubt it. With . . . Dumbledore gone and everything now," Harry said, forcing the words out. Ron got the hint and didn't pursue the subject. He continued to stare at his pumpkin juice, absently playing with the front of his robes. "He told me about a Horcrux," Harry said suddenly, causing Ron's head to fall off of his hand. He stared up at Harry with wide eyes. "Said to contact his brother, the bloke who got his property," Harry finished, watching Ron's face for his reaction.

Ron wrinkled his nose, pursing his lips as he looked thoughtfull at his hands. "That stuffy man who talked to you yesterday?" he asked, turning back to Harry, who nodded. "You reckon it'll be real this time?" Ron asked, lowering his voice when a group of first years trotted by, eager to eat so they could finish packing.

Harry swallowed, remembering what Dumbledore had written. "Yeah," he said, his throat suddenly dry and swollen. "I reckon so." Ron nodded, looking up quickly when Hermione sat on his other side. She reached for a goblet of juice, draining it in one gulp before turning to Harry and Ron with wide, teary eyes.

"Hagrid said he wanted to see us one last time before the train left," she said, her voice sounding clogged and nasaly. Harry swallowed hard, feeling the same, clogging lump in his throat, but he gave a jerky nod, blinking several times and adjusting his glasses. Ron nodded as well, though his freckles seemed to stand out much more on his now pale, drawn face.

They sat in silence for some time, Harry idly picking at the linen on the table while Hermione and Ron took occasional, forced sips of pumpkin juice. After a while, Harry stood up, pulling his legs out from behind the bench. "What do you say we go visit Hagrid now?" he asked quietly, ignoring the startled looks he recieved when he had stood up. Hermione nodded, and she and Ron stood as well, following Harry silently through the doors to the entrance.

Making their way slowly across the grounds, the silence continued, coating them like a thick blanket as they picked their way through the greenhouses. Hagrid, due to the fact that his hut had been burned by the Death Eaters, was staying in the back of the third greenhouse, much to his dislike. The place was crowded and small for a man his size, and Harry could feel for his complaints.

Knocking on the door, they waited patiently as the familiar booming bark of Fang sounded. There was an even louder booming sound, and the glass door to the greenhouse shuddered, it's hinges rattling rather dangerously.

"Fang! What'd I tell ya 'bout runnin' into tha' ruddy door?" Harry couldn't help the small grin that surfaced at the exasperation in Hagrid's voice. It was comforting to know that some things would always stay the same. When the door swung open, Hagrid, with his large frame, slipped out, slamming the door with much force after he was through. He turned back to Harry and the others, a small smile on his face. "Bloody dog," he explained, rubbing his hands together, as though cold. Harry could tell he was exceptionally nervous.

"How've you been, Hagrid?" Hermione asked, placing her hand gently on his arm, though she had to lean up on her toes to do so. Hagrid gave them a watery smile, sniffling slightly. Harry stiffened uncontrollably. He didn't want to talk about Dumbledore, or anything of the sort, but, by Hagrid's nearing sob, it seemed it was inevitable.

"Oh, I bin' hangin' on and everything. How 'bout you lot? Harry?" Hagrid asked, staring at him with obvious concern. Harry blinked several times, stuffing his hands into his pockets, feeling slightly uncomfortable.

"Fine," he muttered, staring fixedly at the floor. There was silence for a while, the only sound being Hagrid's choked back sobs. Harry continued to stare at the floor, not trusting himself to look up at his giant friend, afraid that he might cry himself. Hagrid, too, had been as close, if not closer, to Dumbledore, and it was just as bad, if not worse again, for him, too.

"Hagrid," Hermione said softly, and Harry saw her move from the corner of his eyes to Hagrid's side, resting her head on his elbow. Ron and Harry were dragged toward him with considerable force, each resting uncomfortably against the warmth of Hagrid's large, moleskin coat. Harry wrapped his arm awkwardly around Hagrid's torso, feeling his body heave with sobs.

"It's going to be all right, Hagrid," Harry said quietly, rubbing his back. "Dumbledore would've wanted us to be strong," he added, hoping it would work. To his immense relief, Hagrid's tears slowly subsided, and he sniffled once again. He looked down at Harry, nodding firmly.

"Yer right, Harry. Dumbledore . . . he'd a wanted us ter finish what we started," Hagrid added in a choked whisper, his eyes misting over as he squeezed the three of them tighter against him. As if snapping out of dreamland, he turned to them with a bright smile. "So, you lot ready ter go back on home? Harry, only a little to deal with the Muggles, eh?" Hagrid asked, nudging Harry and winking. Harry forced a smile, rubbing the back of his head and ruffling his hair.

"Er, well, Hagrid . . ." Harry trailed off, looking to Ron and Hermione for help. Hermione gave him a stern look, and Ron merely shrugged, looking just as helpless as Harry. "Look, Hagrid, see . . . Ron and Hermione and I, well, we don't plan on coming . . . back," Harry said, finishing it in one quick breath. Hagrid stopped for a moment, his face going completely blank before shock and outrage appeared.

"Now wait jus' a minute, here!" he roared, causing Harry to wince at the tone of voice. "I know yeh miss Dumbledore an' all, Harry, but that's no reason for yeh to miss out on yer schoolin' an' everythin'!" He raged, crossing his arms over his chest and glowering at all three of them. Harry shifted his weight from one foot to the other, not sure how to explain the Horcruxes without giving it all away. After all, he didn't want Hagrid to get involved as well. It would just put him in as much danger.

"Hagrid," Hermione spoke up, coming to their defense, "There's sort of a situation, that we, Harry, Ron, and I, have to take care of," she explained in a reasonable voice. Hagrid's suspicious look increased, and he snorted derisively. Ron paled, scooting behind Hermione when he received the full brunt of the half giant's glare.

"An' what sorta '_situation'_ is more importan' than yer schoolin'?" Hagrid demanded gruffly. Harry scuffed his toes against the cement floor of the greenhouse front, feeling the weight of his unease increase.

"Well, it's got to do with something Dumbledore told me," Harry said slowly, hoping Hagrid wouldn't pursue the matter. There was a slight pause as Hagrid digested this information. "It's important, Hagrid, really," Harry continued, hoping to convince him. "I wouldn't skip out on Hogwart's if it wasn't," he said, looking up at him. Hagrid sighed, his shoulders sagging heavily as he glanced at Harry and nodded.

"I suppose it's yer business, Harry. Jus' don't go doin' nothin' dangerous. Now, 'bout that visit? What'dya say we go an grab some tea? I jus' made a fresh pot o' it inside," Hagrid said, looking towards his door. Harry smiled, sighing in relief.

"That sounds wonderful, Hagrid," Hermione said, giving Harry a pointed look. He nodded, understanding full and well; don't tell Hagrid anything that could endanger him.

He stepped in after Ron, and they both struggled to close the door. "Well," Ron said conversationally, dropping into an armchair and helping himself to a cup of steaming tea that Hagrid poured. "You reckon Bill and Fleur'll get married on time?"

Harry looked overat Hagrid as Hermione and Ron started a heated debate on whether it would be held before or after Harry's seventeenth birthday. Hagrid gave Harry a reassuring smile, leaning in close to whisper in his ear, "You'll be all righ', Harry. You'll be all righ'."

Harry only smiled, desperately hoping that what Hagrid said was the truth.

* * *

Harry sat on the bed in his dormitory, the curtains open, the sunlight shining on his pale face. The train was leaving in close to an hour. He was supposed to have packed as soon as they got back from Hagrid's greenhouse, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Everytime he even so much as picked up a stray sock, he was hit with a nolstalgic feeling, and his strength always seemed to leave him. 

It was finally sinking in; he would never come back to Hogwart's. This was his final day as a carefree student, trying to pass O.W.L.'s and N.E.W.T.'s, worrying about when the next Potions essay was due. A large part of him, the one that was currently dominating his head, refused to lose all that. Harry sighed, studying the grounds below him with intense scrutiny. He knew he should get moving, but he just . . . couldn't.

"Oi, mate, you ready?"

Harry looked up at the sound of Ron's voice, shrugging his shoulders as he forced himself to slide off the bed. "Getting there," he muttered, forcing himself to reach down and pick up the sock he had deserted earlier. Ron remained in the doorway for a silent moment before stepping inside and shutting it, sinking down on Neville's bed.

"Strange, isn't it? To know that we're not going to come back here anymore?" Ron asked quietly, looking up at Harry with a serious expression. Harry, who had his back turned, dropped the sock in his trunk, turning around and facing Ron. He nodded, reaching for his books.

"Yeah," he said, his voice sounding constricted. "I reckon so. No more Hermione to copy answers from, eh?" he said jokingly, trying to lighten the mood. A grin lit up Ron's face as he gave a weak laugh.

"I bet she probably would've made us do our own for seventh year. N.E.W.T.'s and all," Ron added thoughtfully, the grin still on his face. Harry chuckled, nodding his head. He felt the tension and fear drain from his body as he and Ron continued to make light jabs at Hermione, and all the rest of the Gryffindor House. Especially when Ron tripped over his untied trainers in an attempt to impersonate the frightened first years that fled from Harry.

"Hey, you two," Hermione said, slipping into the dormitory. She raised an eyebrow at Ron's position on the floor, but said nothing. She stepped over him, seating herself in his vacated spot on Neville's bed.

"This is a boy's dormitory, Hermione," Ron said casually, rising to his feet and dusting his robes off, giving Hermione a meaningful look. She rolled her eyes, completely ignoring him as she turned to Harry with a slight frown.

"Harry, how come you haven't packed?" she asked, her frown deepening as she stared at Harry's open trunk. He gave her a sheepish look, ruffling the back of his hair once again.

"Yeah, I . . . forgot," he said evasively, hastily jamming the locks into place on the lid. He turned to her with a weak smile, gesturing at his trunk. "See, all done," he said, gripping his trunk with one hand. "I guess you two have already brought your stuff downstairs?" he asked, trying to avoid anymore questions by Hermione. Ron nodded, seemingly reading Harry's mind as he threw Hermione a cautious glance.

"Yeah, come on, mate, better get that down there," he said, opening the door in a rush. Hermione huffed but stood up as well, following Harry to the door. He stopped, looking back one last time. He tried to memorize every aspect of his dormitory. It had, after all, been more of a home for him than the Dursley's had. He stared at the now blank walls that had once held posters of Dean's favorite teams, and the spot on Neville's nightstand that had once held the plant he had received as a gift.

"Harry?" He looked back at Hermione, nodding his head after a moment before turning and exiting the dormitory. Ron gave him a strange look, but he ignored it, setting his trunk next to their own. He noticed that the common room was relatively empty, save for a few lagging first years, and he looked back at his friends.

"Everyone is already gone, huh?" he asked, staring at the dead coals of the fire. Hermione nodded, walking around the trunks to stand next to him. Ron, as if drawn unconciously by some invisible force, appeared on his other side, towering over him by many inches, and Harry couldn't help but smile.

"Maybe we'll come back and visit someday," Ron said, staring at the mantle. Hermione nodded, still staring ahead, and Harry shrugged.

"Maybe," he said noncommitedly. He never really wanted to come back. Things just wouldn't be the same without Dumbledore. Besides, he had much more to do. "By the way, _is_ the wedding going to be before or after my birthday?" he asked, grinning at the fire when Hermione crossed her arms over her chest.

"I was talking with Mrs. Weasley, and she said it was going to be _before_-"

"Yeah, well, Fleur told me she wanted to wait so Harry could come-"

"Yes, _precious_ Fleur! I'm surprised your not-"

Harry rolled his eyes, grabbing the handle on his trunk and making his way silently out of the common room. The Fat Lady called goodbye to him as he was descending the stairs, and he stopped for a moment to wave, knowing he would never bother her in the middle of the night to be let in again.

Hermione and Ron joined him sometime when he was on the fourth floor. They both seemed out of breath, and Harry had the feeling that they had run all the way to catch up with him.

"What's with leaving us like that, mate?" Ron asked, panting as he gripped the hand rail to the stairs below. Harry shrugged, grinning at Hermione, who gave him a knowing look in return. Ron, however, remained oblivious as he jogged down the stairs, shaking his head.

Harry suddenly remembered something he had been meaning to bring up since Dumbledore's funeral. "Look, Ron, Hermione," he said, stopping when they passed the entrance to the Great Hall. "There's something I've been meaning to tell you," he said, propping his trunk up against the wall. "Look, about the Dursley's . . ."

"No way, Harry, you're not weaseling your way out of it," Hermione said immediately, ignoring the offended look Ron gave her. He reluctantly turned to Harry as well, nodding his head enthusiastically. "We've already decided we're going, Harry."

"Yeah, mate, we're going with you," Ron added, trying to look as serious as possible. Harry shook his head, not sure how to explain it to them.

"Look, you two, it'll only make things worse if you come. The Dursley's weren't too keen on having Dumbledore or the Order there last year and the year before," he said, lowering his voice in case others were passing by, though the Great Hall was empty, "And I don't reckon they'll be too happy for a visit again," he said, gesturing at the two of them. Hermione pursed her lips, and Ron looked undecided, as if he was waiting for Hermione to agree or not.

"I suppose you have a point, Harry," Hermione said grudgingly. "But, that doesn't mean we won't come to visit. Besides, Bill and Fleur's wedding is _before_ your birthday," she gave Ron a dirty look, "So you'll have to go to Ron's either way."

Ron snorted, looking fit to argue, but Harry held his hand up, nodding his head. "A visit's fine, just as long as you owl me or something first. And-"

"You three! You're going to miss the train!" Harry looked up, slightly annoyed at being interrupted. His annoyance faded, however, when he caught sight of the speaker. Ginny was walking toward them with a hurried stride, slightly panting. Hermione shot him a worried look, but he ignored it, staring at Ginny.

"Well, I suppose we ought to be going," Ron said uncomfortably. Hermione nodded, picking her trunk back up and starting back down the corridor, her hand grasping Ron's elbow as she forcefully dragged him away and down the stairs. Harry grabbed his own trunk from the wall and followed, trying to avoid Ginny's eyes. Unfortunately, she fell in step beside him.

"You know, you don't have to completely ignore me," she said quietly, jogging lightly to keep with his longer gait as they exited the school. Harry swallowed awkwardly, not sure what to say to her. If Voldemort ever found out . . . He felt a constricting pain in his chest, and he threw Ginny a cautious look, only to find her staring back at him.

"I-I know," he said, faltering slightly. "It's just that . . ." He trailed off, looking over Ginny's head. Aberforth Dumbledore was approaching the cross to Hogsmeade, his robes gently sweeping the floor. Harry remembered what Dumbledore had written him, and the words of the letter flashed briefly through his mind. He shoved his trunk in Ginny's hands, muttering a quick 'wait', and he sprinted after the quite lanky man.

"Excuse me! Excuse me!" Aberforth looked back at him, narrowing his eyes slightly. "Excuse me, sir," Harry panted, hands on his knees as he fought for breath. Aberforth gave him a searching glance, staring down at him above a familiar crooked nose.

"Harry Potter," Aberforth greeted, his tone lacking the force it had contained from the day before. Harry shifted back to a standing position, reaching into the insides of his robes to extract the letters.

"Please, sir, I have to give you this," he said, fumbling with the letter. He stopped for a moment, looking up at the man, inspecting his face. "Can I trust you not to speak of this?" he asked, the letter stopping on it's way out from the envelope. Aberforth gave him a gaurded look, his blue eyes narrowing even further.

"You are asking a man you just met to trust you, Harry Potter?" Harry paused for a moment, seeing the truth in the wizened man's words. He nodded, though, looking back up at him. "Very well, then," Aberforth said, gripping the letter and tugging it from Harry's hand. Harry waited as he read it, watching as his eyes narrowed nearly to slits before Aberforth's sharp gaze moved to Harry.

"Do you fully understand what Albus has asked me to do, Harry Potter?" Aberforth asked, his voice unusually quiet, considering his previous tones. Harry licked his lips, not sure if he should tell Aberforth that he had no idea what was written in the letter. The older man, however, must have figured it out. "Very well. I will contact you in three days time and give you directions on where to find me. Good day, Harry Potter."

He turned, his robes swishing, and walked down the path, leaving Harry rather dumbfounded, the open envelope still in his hand. He blinked a few times, not sure if he was fully aware of what had just happened. Ginny, however, brought him from his thoughts.

"Harry? Harry, are you feeling well?" she asked, appearing at his side. She looked curiously at the letter in his hands, but Harry stuffed it hurriedly back into it's envelope and then stowed it in his robes, refusing to elaborate. Ginny did not press him for information, and they walked silently toward the carriages.

They both took seats inside the carriage with Ron and Hermione, who were staring at opposite ends of the carriage. Harry figured they had had another row, and he decided to leave it alone. Besides, it would only end up getting him dragged into the middle once again, something he wasn't particularily fond of.

Ginny remained silent as well, keeping a relatively safe distance away from Harry as the carriage lumbered forward with a slight jostle. When they reached the station, Ginny stepped out first, hurrying over to a group of her friends, giving Harry a somber look. He swallowed hard, grabbing his trunk and making his way silently toward the train, Ron and Hermione following closely.

Harry was just getting ready to board the train when a rather booming voice called his name. "Harry! Harry!" He recognized Hagrid's voice immediately, and he looked up, startled to see the giant at a near run, tears streaming down his face. Before Harry could even so much as drop his trunk, he was being swept up into a bone crushing hug, Hagrid's scraggly beard scratching lightly against his face.

He awkwardly hugged him back, wrapping his arms briefly around the half giant's shoulders, aware that the entirety of the departing students were now staring at him and Hagrid in awe. Hagrid dropped him gently, repeating the process with a sniffling Hermione and a much taller Ron. After depositing Ron next to Hermione, he stared down at them, his sobs ringing through the station.

"Thought yeh were leavin' without sayin' goodbye, eh? Ruddy kids, I tell you," he said brokenly, reaching into the pocket of his moleskin coat and withdrawing a handkercheif. He blew his nose loudly, causing Harry's ears to ring, and then wiped the old tears with a clean end. He suddenly looked down at them, his lips trembling with the effort to keep from crying.

"Sorry, Hagrid, but I was late packing and everything. Besides, you're always down at the station when we leave," Harry said quietly, patting Hagrid on the shoulder. Hagrid gave them a teary smile, his beady eyes shining brightly as a stray tear slipped into the tangles in his beard.

"We're going to miss you Hagrid," Hermione said, reaching forward and giving him another quick squeeze. Ron nodded his head, smiling with enthusiasm. Hagrid burst into sobs again, hanging onto Hermione's small frame with a tight grasp, his fresh tears trickling down his cheeks and onto Hermione's hair. "We'll see you again," Hermione said soothingly, looking pointedly at Harry.

He forced a smile, not sure if he could repeat the words without lying. He had no idea what was in store for him . . . "Yeah, Hagrid, it's not like we won't ever see you again," he repeated, smiling even wider, the action hurting his cheek muscles. Hagrid's tears subsided into sniffles once again, and he cleared his throat, letting Hermione go with a sheepish look.

"I'm just goin' to miss yeh lot so much," he said, taking in a deep breath. Harry nodded, blinking rapidly as the conductor leaned his head out of the train.

"All aboard!"

"Well, I suppose yeh should get goin'. Yer trunk, Hermione," he said, taking it as if it weighed nothing and stowing it on the train. Harry and Ron's trunks soon followed, and they all boarded as large puffs of steam started to fill the air. When the train started forward with a start, Hermione gulped, looking back at Hagrid.

Harry forcibly slid the door closed, leaning out the window, waving vigorously at Hagrid. The train gained speed, and Harry heard Hagrid erupt into a new set of sobs, his hand waving madly in the air. "Bye, Hagrid! Send Grawp our regards!" he called, grinning brightly as the train gained even further on the tracks. Hagrid was soon little more than a dot, and Harry had no choice but to slide the window shut and take a seat.

The three of them sat in silence for a while, Ron shifting nervously in his chair. And then Hermione sprang up, pulling Ron with her. "Ron!" she exploded, her eyes wide and frenzied. Ron gave her a startled look, not sure what he had done to offend her. "We were supposed to be in the Prefect's compartment!" she said wildly, disappearing quickly out the door. Ron threw Harry an apologetic look that he waved off with a smile before he was dragged out the door as well.

There was peaceful silence for another few moments before the compartment door slid open, and two familiar faces appeared. "Neville, Luna, have a seat," Harry offered, gesturing across from him. "Ron and Hermione are down at the Prefect's spot, so it should be a while," he explained, noticing Neville's surprised look at the emptiness of the compartment. Luna waved airily, her eyes glazed and distant.

"Hello, Harry. Pleasant weather we're having. I suppose it's due to the Nebulosus Ficeri," Luna added. Harry nodded, as if he understood, careful not to look at Neville when Luna reached blindly to the top of her head, extracting a large, feathery quil. Reaching down below her, she produced an ink bottle, unscrewing it and placing it on the table. Dipping the quil, she began to write in the air, her inkholding on the spot and forming solid, albeit very wet, blank letters.

Neville let out a sound close to admiration and surprise. "That's brilliant, Luna! How'd you do that?" Harry asked, reaching forward to prod one of the letters with his finger. It left an inky stain on the tip, but otherwise remained solid, floating in mid air. Luna gave him an eerie smile.

"My father taught me. He says that when Nebulosus Ficeri are present, the air thickens, allowing you to write on it. They'll evaporate as soon as the air clears," she added absently, stowing the ink bottle back in her robes and placing the large quil behind her ear. Neville gave her a strange look, and Harry managed to turn a laugh into an odd sort of choking noise.

It was then that the compartment door slid open once again, and an exasperated Ron entered, Hermione soon following. "Budge over," Ron told Neville grumpily. He slid into the seat, ignoring Hermione, who was giving him a hearty scowl. "Hermione, just drop it. Zabini deserved every bit of it," Ron added, rolling his eyes when Hermione seated herself next to Harry, arms crossed over her chest.

"I will not drop it, Ronald Weasley. You shouldn't have jinxed him, you know very well-Who did that?" Hermione asked abruptly, stopping mid scold to point curiously at the floating letters. Luna fixed her with a blank stair, her large eyes shining.

"Hello Ronald, Hermione. It's a trick my father taught me. You see, when Nebulosus Ficeri are present-"

Hermione scoffed, cutting Luna off rather rudely. "Oh, spare me. It's a simple thickening charm you put in the ink," she said flippantly. Luna gave her an unnatural scowl, her lips tightening, though she did not pursue the subject.

"So," Neville started awkwardly. "How about the summer? Any plans?" he asked, nudging Ron. Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, Harry, Hermione and I have gotta watch Bill marry Fleur. You remember her, right? The pretty blond from the Triwizard?" Ron pointedly ignored Hermione's derisive snort at this comment, but Neville nodded enthusiastically, smiling. "She and Bill are going to tie the knot come July," Ron added.

Neville looked thoughtfully at Hermione, but she ignored him, instead opting to stare moodily out the window. Harry sighed. He had a feeling this was not going to be a pleasant trip.

They spent the rest of the time discussing what they wanted to take for N.E.W.T.'s. The three of them tactfully refrained from voicing that they were not planning on coming back to Hogwart's, though Neville showed a bit of suspicion when Ron fumbled around with an answer.

When they were nearly ten minutes from the King's Cross station, an uninvited guest showed up, completely spoiling any hopes Harry had had for the rest of the train ride. Blaise Zabini stood irately in the doorway, brows arched down in a scowl as he stared at the lot of them.

"Bit of blustering your oaf of a friend did at the station, wouldn't you say, Potter?" Zabini asked, taking a step into the compartment. Harry raised an eyebrow, surprised at the lack of anger he had at this statement.

"Trying to take over now that Malfoy's gone, Zabini?" he asked idly, hiding a grin when the boy's face lit up with anger. "I should think that Slytherin would get the hint by now," Harry added, gripping his wand tightly under the table in case Zabini got any strange ideas.

"You should learn that not all of us are as . . . _hesitant_ as Draco, Potter," Zabini said, the meaning painfully clear in his statement. Harry leapt to his feet, ready to shove Hermione out of the way so he could wring Zabini's useless neck. The boy simply smirked when Hermione restrained Harry, latching onto his arm like a leech. "Manners, Potter, manners. Wouldn't want to end up like your good pal Dumbledore, now would you?"

Neville had to tackle Ron to keep him from throttling the Slytherin, and Zabini finally got the hint. "I'd watch my step if I were you, Potter," Zabini sneered, walking leisurely from the compartment, sliding the door shut. Hermione finally let Harry go, and he scowled down at her.

"What in the bloody hell was that for?" Ron snarled at Neville, hopping to his feet and dusting his robes off with a mulish look. Neville pursed his lips, facing Ron stubbornly.

"It would have only gotten you into trouble," Hermione said reasonably, coming to Neville's defense. "He was only baiting you," she added, though her own hands were trembling violently. Harry said nothing as he flopped back down into his seat, glowering at the table. The rest of the trip was spent in thick silence.

When the train finally rolled into King's Cross, Harry yanked his trunk down from the luggage rack, stomping from the compartment. He didn't see Zabini as he departed the train, and he felt a twinge of disappointment. He would have loved to see the look on the Slytherin's face when he started to sprout tentacles . . .

Hermione and Ron caught up to him after bading Neville and Luna a hasty goodbye. They met up with Mrs. Weasley and Mad Eye Moody, who stared fixedly at Harry as they approached.

"Harry, dear!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, enveloping him in a soft hug. He grinned into her hair, feeling his former tension drain as he drew back. "How have you been?" she asked, grasping his shoulders as she inspected him from every angle. He grinned, shrugging his shoulders.

"Fine, Mrs. Weasley. Professor," Harry added, nodding at Moody. He looked disgruntled at the use of the term 'professor', but said nothing as he nodded in return. Harry saw his magical eye roll back in his head as a figure approached them from behind. Mrs. Weasley tended to Ron and Hermione as Arthur Weasley approached, clapping Harry on the shoulder. He noticed that there was a strained look in the older man's face, and he had the impression that Mr. Weasley wanted to discuss Dumbledore.

"Harry," he said quietly. He suddenly looked past Harry, his smile widening. "Ginny, dear, did you have a good year? How were O.W.L.'s?" he asked, giving Harry a morose look before turning tohis daughter. It left Harry alone with Moody, who simply stood there staring at him with his good eye.

"Potter." It was gruff and heavy, and Harry desperately hoped that Moody, too, did not want to talk about Dumbledore. "Calm down, boy. I don't want to talk about Dumbledore. Wanted to ask if you'll be ready," Moody said, his one eye narrowing in a critical survey. Harry nodded grimly, not sure as to what Moody was reffering to.

"Oi, mate, we better go through now," Ron muttered, appearing with Hermione at Harry's side. Moody nodded, catching the phrase as well.

"You two," he said, pointing at Ron and Hermione. "You go with Molly. Arthur and the girl go next, and then you with me, Potter," he instructed, nodding his head as Ron, Hermione, and Mrs. Weasley disappeared through the magical barrier. Ginny and Mr. Weasley went next, leaving the two alone again. "Let's go, Potter," Moody said, clasping his shoulder for a moment before they moved through the barrier as well.

Harry appeared on the other side, the sight of hundreds of Muggles scurrying about greeting him. He looked around for his Aunt and Uncle, knowing they liked to wait by the entrance. Sure enough, they were standing sulkily next to front, Uncle Vernon glaring daggers at anyone who came too close.

He turned to Hermione and Ron. "All right, you two. Remember, I want owls or something first. And Ron, let's wait to tell your Mum till the wedding," Harry added, giving Mrs. Weasley, who was conversing in hushed tones with Moody and her husband, a wary look. Ron nodded, grinning awkwardly.

Hermione rolled her eyes, reaching up to kiss Harry's cheek and give him a quick hug. "We'll visit sometime in a week or so. We'll write before that," she added, squeezing his hand gently. Harry turned to Ron, returning the awkward grin as they shook hands.

"See you soon, mate," Ron said, rolling his eyes when Mrs. Weasley gave him a teary goodbye. Mr. Weasley shook his hand as well, telling him they would be in contact. Moody followed him to his Aunt and Uncle.

"Dursley," Moody growled out. Uncle Vernon gave him a mutinous look, but nodded his head. "I suppose you remember our little agreement, Dursley?" Moody asked calmly, though his voice was filled with warning. Uncle Vernon bristled, but he nodded once again. "Good. Potter, keep in touch with Weasley and Granger. If we don't hear from you within five days, we're sending someone over," he added, giving his Aunt and Uncle a pointed look.

With that, he was limping away, though Harry was sure his magical eye was trained upon them. He turned back to his Aunt and Uncle, who looked livid. "Well, let's be on our way, boy," Uncle Vernon said. Harry sighed, looking back wistfully at the station. At least the stay at the Dursley's wouldn't be that long this year. Though he couldn't decide if that was a good thing or not, considering his circumstances.

* * *

_So, the troupe leaves Hogwarts. I stick with my opinion that Harry won't go back. I think Rowling emphasised this in the last few chapters of HBP._


	3. No More Dursley's

_No More Dursley's_

Harry lowered his forehead miserably to the window, welcoming the cool touch of the glass as it was cooled by the rain pelting it from outside. Two weeks he had been at the Dursley's, two weeks he had waited, and for two weeks, he had received nothing. Not a word from anyone, except for a letter from Ron the fifth day back, not an owl, not a call, nothing. He had a horrible, nolstalgic feeling of the summer of his fifth year.

To make matters worse, the non-existent contact had included information on the Horcrux from Aberforth Dumbledore. His promise to contact Harry within three days had not been fulfilled, and Harry had never felt like such a fool. He had _willingly_ handed over information on something crucially important to a _complete_ stranger. Even if Dumbledore had told him to trust the man . . . Where had Dumbledore's trust in Severus Snape gotten him?

Bringing his forehead from the glass, he mentally berated himself for such brash thoughts. Dumbledore had been the greatest wizard alive, and Harry knew that there must have been something Dumbledore had known about Snape that had made him act as such. Besides, Dumbledore wasn't a complete fool, he had, after all, known of Snape's past ways . . . Or at least Harry wanted to believe it. There was that constant, ever-vigilant voice in the back of his head that maliciously nagged about how trusting Dumbledore had been, how _foolish _. . .

Harry gritted his teeth, turning sharply from the window. After a quick glance about his room, he turned back around, watching the rain with a wretched feeling in the pit of his stomach. He couldn't exactly say his self-confidence was at it's best. Sighing, he sank to the floor, resting his head against the wall.

Another horrible feature brought along with the short stay he had to endure at the Dursley's was the absolute boredom. He had _nothing_ to do, literally. _Not even friends to write to,_ he added, somewhat bitterly. Another sigh escaped him. Ron, Hermione, and the others had to have a good reason for keeping silent. For all he knew, they could have been . . . Harry shook his head, refusing to let his thoughts stray to that unwelcome region. It was just too painful.

And Lupin . . . Harry hadn't even been able to visit him in St. Mungo's, something he felt particularily miserable about. Lupin was probably already out and about, thinking Harry some horrible lad who wouldn't even visit a friend in the hospital. There was also Bill and Fleur's wedding. Harry had no idea what exact date it was going to be held, though he knew sometime in July, and he hoped he hadn't already missed it. He'd feel even worse, if it was possible, if he did.

And the Daily Prophet had stopped coming. Harry had thought this odd, considering it had never happened before. Another horribly wrong thing to happen, considering he now had absolutely no way of contacting or keeping up with the wizarding world. He felt a knot of anger form in his chest, and he scowled at the floor. _All because of Voldemort,_ he thought angrily, picking at a piece of wood that had splintered from the dully polished floor.

"What are you doing to my floor, boy!"

Harry involuntarily winced at the high-pitched shriek, bringing his hands to his ears. There was a thundering of footsteps coming up the stairs, and Harry looked up hesitantly, meeting the angry eyes of his Aunt Petunia and his Uncle Vernon. He was mildly surprised, though. Aunt Petunia's sentance had contained more words than his only relatives had spoken to him the entire two weeks, a record low, he noted with abstract amusement.

"Boy," Uncle Vernon growled out, stepping in front of his wife. Harry stood quickly, not sure to what ungodly pleasure he owed the current visit. Judging from the steely look on Aunt Petunia's drawn face and the predatory gleam in Uncle Vernon's eyes, it wasn't something he was going to enjoy.

"Yes, Uncle Vernon?" Harry said, keeping his distance by the window. Uncle Vernon let out another sound mixing between a grunt and a growl, taking a step forward. He reached behind his back, and Harry felt a rolling in his stomach as the rather crazy tales of Muggles gone mad with guns spiraled through his head. To his immense relief, Uncle Vernon only pulled out what looked like an envelope.

It had three perfectly placed stamps on it, and a neat, scrawling handwriting that Harry immediately recognized as that of his best friend's, Hermione Granger. Feeling his spirits lift sky-high, he walked slowly toward Uncle Vernon, reaching forward to snatch the letter from his Uncle's hands. However, Uncle Vernon had different ideas, and he pulled the letter back, a gleam in his beady, sordid eyes.

"Boy, you will tell these . . . _freak_," the word rolled of his tongue with obvious distaste, accompanied by a domineering sneer, "Friends of yours not to be sending letters to my house," Uncle Vernon warned, his eyes narrowing, causing the excess fat on his cheeks to roll upward in a uncanny form of movement. Harry nodded absently, reaching for the letter once more. He sighed in relief when Uncle Vernon let him take it, and checked it over, making sure it was still sealed correctly. The last thing he needed was his relatives prying into his business.

When he looked back up, he noticed that his Aunt and Uncle were still in his doorway, and he gave them a wary look. "Will that be all?" he asked slowly, feeling very uncomfortable at the still-present knowing look in Vernon's eyes. He nodded jerkily, the action causing the mounds of flab on his various chins to wobble uncertainly before falling back into place, making his neck resemble an odd, sort of staircase-shaped thing. Aunt Petunia gave him a superior look, closing the door with much more force than was necessary after following her husband out.

Deciding that his Aunt and Uncle's strange behavior could wait, he withdrew Hermione's letter, shoving some stray Quidditch books off his bed as he sat down. Tossing the envelope carelessly to the side, he adjusted his glasses, dropping his eyes to the letter.

_Harry,_

_Don't have much time. Sorry we haven't written_(Harry assumed Ron and the others were included in the 'we')_ but things are hectic in the wizarding world. There was recently a killing involving twenty seven Muggles and four witches, and the Ministry, and our friends_(Harry frowned at her horrible use of discrepency)_ are rather cautious about letting us out and about._

_Our best regards, and sorry again for not being able to visit. The wedding is on the twentieth, and they'll be coming to fetch you sometime soon. You'll be staying someplace you know, so be prepared. By the way, their's curfew on the wizarding world now, too. Anyone caught after sunset without official purposes is immediately arrested on the spot. _

_Which is why I have to rush. It's getting dark, and Mrs. Weasley sends her regards as well. Bye for now._

_Love, _

_Hermione_

The paper fluttered from his hands to the coverlet on his bed, folding in upon itself. Harry stared blankly at the dark-printed scratchy writing, his mind numb with shock. _Twenty seven Muggles and four witches?_ Harry asked himself, blinking several times. Thirty one people killed? He swallowed, feeling a surge of anger and violence.

Voldemort was behind it. He knew it, just like he knew Severus Snape and Draco Malfoy were rotten Slytherins, just like he knew Dumbledore was dead . . . His fist clenched, and his arm trembled with the effort to keep from pounding something to a pulp as the question echoed over and over in his head; _Why? What was to gain from doing such things? How could it feel good and powerful to kill so many innocent people?_

And then Dumbledore's voice floated in his head, swimming around and around itself until it was emblazened behind his eyes. _To set him apart from others . . ._ Harry stiffly folded the letter up, tucking it back into the envelope and setting it with forced, tight movements on his nightstand. He swallowed once again, not sure what to do with himself.

And then he remembered his Uncle's face, the knowing, superior look. Had the Durseley's somehow known? Harry smiled grimly, though it looked like more of a grimace. It was likely, considering twenty seven of the deaths had been Muggles. Uncle Vernon was probably shaking in his slippers at the moment, elated at the thought that the same lunatic who had done all that was going to take care of Harry.

He forced himself to remember the letter. At least his stay would be shorter than he had thought. This time a genuine smile tilted his lips. Only a few days, if that, before he was gone. The letter had been by Muggle post, so Harry was positive that it had taken a day or so to get there, considering the slow post in Little Whinging. Feeling much better, though only slightly, he stood from his bed, padding back over to the window.

The rain had slowed down to a steady drizzle, just hard enough to leave droplet marks on the window, but soft enough to keep from making an annoying tap. He pressed his forehead once more to the glass, feeling a sudden rush of melancholy as the news finally sank in. This was his last time at the Dursley's.

No longer would he have the safe haven that played base for him when Hogwart's was unavailable. Dumbledore had said the protection would wear off the instant he turned seventeen. Harry would no longer have people watching over him, concerned day and night about his safety. Well, maybe Lupin . . . He sighed, his breath forming a circle of fog on the glass. He hoped they would hurry up.

* * *

When Hermione had said they were coming to fetch him, he had expected to go by floo, or maybe Side-Along Apparition, if the members of the Order were strong enough to perform it. A portkey also sounded reasonable, even more likely, given it's safety. What he hadn't expected, however, was a beat up, slug like station wagon, parked on the curb in front of Number Four, Privet Drive. 

He knew immediately that this was not a visitor for the Dursley's(He was at his customary spot by the window, two days after the letter, and had received the first view of the visitors). They wouldn't be caught dead conversing with people who drove a car like _that_, if it could even be called a car. It had run out of steam a few feet before officially reaching the mailbox, and Harry had fought back a laugh when the occupant wrestled with the driver's door.

The laugh, however, turned into a hacking cough as he caught sight of a familiar, balding, lanky figure unfolding itself from the car. And the man that followed had turned the hacking cough into a wheezing choke, which had left him slightly purple in the face as he raced down the stairs and toward the front door when the sound of the doorbell rang throughout the house.

Unfortunately, Uncle Vernon had reached it first, and Harry went barreling headlong into the meaty back, rebounding off the soft flesh to land roughly on the floor. Uncle Vernon swung around, his face flushed with rage as a single, thick finger rose, it's aim dead on Harry. He swalled, scrambling to his feet.

"Uncle Vernon, wait, those people-" Harry was cut off by a heavy, deafeningpounding on the door, and he winced, knowing that it must be Mr. Weasley. He wasn't accustomed to Muggle manners and politeness, which did not conclude trying to beat someone's door down, especially if you were making an afternoon call on them.

"Boy, if these are any of your freak friends," Uncle Vernon muttered, warning evident as he turned on his heel, nearly slamming into the wall, and yanked the door open with a vicious pull. "Good evening," he greeted stiffly, eyeing the figures of Mad Eye Moody and Arthur Weasley with avid weariness. It seemed that his last encounter with the two was not forgotten.

"Ah, Dursley, is it?" Mr. Weasley said pleasantly, striding forward and offering his hand. Uncle Vernon eyed the hand with disgust before looking back up at Mr. Weasley, his refusal written plainly on his face. Mr. Weasley looked slightly crestfallen, but his cheeriness returned when he spotted Harry. "Harry! Lovely afternoon, isn't it?" he asked, beaming. Harry nodded, glancing at Uncle Vernon, whose lips at tightened considerably.

"Dursley, budge over," Moody growled, taking a few limps forward. Uncle Vernon gave him a look of pure outrage, clearly insulted at being ordered about in his own house. He lifted that same, meaty finger, swinging it toward Moody with a threatening shake.

"Now listen here, sir! This is my house, and I shall not be-What in the ruddy hell are you doing?" Uncle Vernon said loudly, eyes widening and face darkening a few shades when Moody limped by, the two nearly matched in height.

"Save it, you slimy codger. Potter," Moody greeted, nodding at him. Harry returned the gesture, looking back to Mr. Weasley, who was attempting to console Uncle Vernon, who was having none of it.

"Terribly sorry, Mr. Dursley. Allastor tends to be a bit capricious when his mind's set on business," Mr. Weasley said, similing apologetically. It was lost to Uncle Vernon's ears though, as his glower moved to Harry.

"Boy, take your guests and get out of my house," Uncle Vernon said, his tone clipped and pristinely clear. Harry nodded grimly, swallowing at the shaking now causing his Uncle's entire being to quiver with rage. It was at that precise moment, however, that Dudley, Harry's cousin, chose to take his third afternoon snack. Or third on Harry's count alone.

"Mum!" the portly boy bellowed, dropping the small, handheld gaming device in his hands and waddling off the other way. Mr. Weasley's smile was now strained and forced, though Moody showed no apparent reaction to the Dursley's. Aunt Petunia entered the foyer a moment later, her eyes widening in shock and her hand fluttering to her breast as her breath escaped her in a gasp.

"Vernon!" she screeched, shoving roughly past Harry to help her husband, who was leaning against the wall, his breathing heavy and labored in an attempt to control his rage at the invasion of his home. "You, boy!" Aunt Petunia said, rounding on Harry.

"We'll be leaving," Harry said quickly, looking to Moody for affirmation.

"Got your stuff packed, Potter?" Moody asked leisurely, looking with obvious disdain at Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, who was attempting to heave her husband from the wall. Harry shook his head, jumping up quickly and starting toward the stairs. "I'll be lending you a hand, then, I suppose," Moody added grumpily, nodding at Mr. Weasley. "Arthur, I trust you can take care of things down here?" With that, he started up the stairs, with minor difficulty, after Harry.

Harry had just started to round up his stack of books when Moody lumbered through the doorway, drawing his wand and swishing it out. Harry turned, ready to deposit the rather heavy armload of books into his trunk, when he noticed the wand of the ex-Auror pointed directly at him.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked frantically, the books sagging in his protesting arms.

"You haven't even checked to make sure Arthur and I aren't impersonaters," Moody said scornfully, wand steady and still. Harry swallowed, nodding his head at the mistake. He had been _quite _sure they were real. They had acted like they always did. _And since when does a Death Eater act like a Death Eater when impersonating someone?_ the nagging voice in his head quipped. Harry scowled at nothing, raising his eyes to Moody's.

"Who's laying in St. Mungo's right now?" Harry asked suddenly, pretty sure a Death Eater wouldn't know that. With Lupin being in the Order and all, he was confident that the information wouldn't be widespread. To his utter surprise, a look of disapproval flitted across Moody's face.

"That the best you can come up with, Potter? I've heard better from little kids," he said, lowering the wand, though he did not put it away. Harry sagged in relief, the books toppling into his trunk as he was allowed to move again. "You ought to work on that. Six years at Hogwart's should have prepared you for the outside world," he added, flicking his wand at a few piles of dirty robes. They all did a strange sort of jig in the air before toddling toward Harry's trunk clumsily, landing in a heap with a swish.

"I've got one more year left," Harry muttered, knowing he was lying through his teeth. It was best not to let anybody know at the moment, though. Mrs. Weasley was sure to find out if he or Ron told anyone, and Harry was already dreading the inevitable as it was.

Harry turned, amazed, when Moody barked out a laugh, his magical eye swiveling about to focus on Harry along with the real one. "Potter, you aren't going back to that school without Dumbledore. I don't blame you, either. Minerva is one hell of a witch, but she ain't Dumbledore. Nope, she ain't Dumbledore," he added, somewhat more quietly. Harry gaped, the pile of socks in his hands dropping to the floor with a light thump. "What?" Moody growled, catching his shocked look.

"How'd you . . .? Know that-" Harry sputtered, gesturing at Moody. Moody let out another hollow laugh, the noise sounding as if it had been grated over thousands of nails.

"Like I said, Hogwart's ain't Hogwarts without that Dumbledore. Now hurry, boy, we don't have all day. And _what_ is this?" he asked, nudging something on the floor with his shoe. Harry frowned, leaning forward on his haunches to inspect whatever Moody was indicating. He fell back with a yelp, staring fearfully at the fidgeting object on the floor. It was a sock, or _used to be_ a sock. It had small, wormy tentacles and a slight patch of fuzz near the ankle of it now. Harry's eyes widened. He hadn't realized it had gone that long without washing. "Disgusting, Potter. All Aurors learn cleanliness. I suggest you get a start on it now," Moody added.

For some reason, it caused a smile to fall on Harry's face, and he lifted the sock with renewed vigor, taking a step back when Moody pointed his wand at it. The tentacles shriveled up and disappeared with a pop, the hair soon following it. Harry tossed it harmlessly into his trunk, scouring the room for any missing materials.

"That all?" Moody finally asked, looking fit and ready to go as he pointed his wand at Harry's trunk. It levitated into the air, and Harry started to follow Moody before he remembered it.

"Wait!" he shouted, rushing back into the room. He threw himself on the floor and crawled under the bed, lifting the floorboard and grabbing all the items in his growing hoard. Every birthday card he had ever received from his friends, a few moldy pieces of cake he had intended to eat later but forgotten about(Moody quickly vanquished them with a flick of his wrist), and other small things that meant the world to Harry. Putting them in the top of of his trunk, he nodded at Moody.

"Let's go then, Potter." Harry followed the ex-Auror down the stairs, grimacing uncontrollably when he saw his Aunt and Uncle pressed against the wall, eyes wide with fear. Mr. Weasley had his wand out, though it was pointed toward the door, and his spine was rigid. Moody immediately tensed, joining Mr. Weasley in a flash, warning Harry with a look to stay on the stairs. "Trouble, Arthur?" Moody asked out of the corner of his mouth. Harry had to strain on his toes at the bottom step to hear.

"No, nothing, Allastor. I just wanted to keep an eye out," Arthur said, turning pleasantly to Harry. "Well, Harry, I assume you'll want to say goodbye?" he asked, though his tone was more forceful than his face belied. Harry remembered the last time Mr. Weasley had witnessed him say goodbye to his relatives, and he fought back another grimace as he faced the Dursley's, finally climbing down the last step on the staircase.

"Er, thank you," he said awkwardly, ruffling the hair near the back of his head. "I know you don't like me and all, so, er . . . thanks for letting me stay. I won't be coming back," he added, choosing to ignore the pleased look that settled on Uncle Vernon's face. He looked to Mr. Weasley, hoping it would suffice as a decent enough goodbye. From the pleasant expression on his face, it had, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief. While he didn't hate his relatives, at least not yet, he wasn't too fond of them either.

"Well, Mr. and Mrs. Dursley. We'll take our leave," Mr. Weasley said, giving it one last ditch effort and offering his hand. Neither Dursley accepted, and his smile faltered a bit as he turned, starting toward the door. "I'll check, Allastor," he added quietly, slowly cracking the door open and peeking out. Satisfied, he turned to Harry. "Come on, Harry, out you go, after me."

"Boy, wait." Harry turned, mild surprise evident on his face as he faced Aunt Petunia. She seemed to struggle with her words, and they came out carefully and slowly. "That man . . . Dumbledore, was it?" she asked, and Harry stiffened, although no less curious. He waited, wondering what in the world his Aunt Petunia was getting at. "He won't be bothering us anymore, will he?" she asked, eyes narrowed, as if she expected to get landed with another orphan boy, or perhaps girl.

Harry felt every ounce of hope that his Aunt would say something pleasant deplete as his face hardened. "No," he said flatly, turning and following Mr. Weasley brusquely. Moody followed suit, slamming the door and limping toward them, wand concealed under his arm.

"In the back, Harry," Mr. Weasley instructed him, opening the door and nodding at Harry. Harry slid in the backseat, wrinkling his nose as the scent of must, sewage, and spoiled spirits assaulted his nostrils. Mr. Weasley noticed his grimace and chuckled uneasily, wringing his hands. "Found the car in a back alley, Harry. Best that you don't go spouting it off to Molly, though," Mr. Weasley added. Harry couldn't help but smile as he nodded his head.

"No, of course not, Mr. Weasley," he said, trying to keep from touching anything in the car that wasn't necessary, seats included. They were ripped and torn, and there was a rather large dark stain that Harry guessed was blood to his right. Moody slipped Harry's trunk in on the other side, and climbed in the passenger seat, buckling his seat belt with a little help from Mr. Weasley.

"Well, Potter, all set?" Moody asked, looking back to give him a gruff look. Harry nodded, gripping his own seat belt, which was nearly ripped in two, tightly as the car started forward with a jerk, sputtering and spitting. Harry noticed a foul cloud of black coughing up from the motor under the hood, but he didn't say anything.

He looked back out the cracked rear windsheild, squinting his eyes against the glare of the afternoon sun. He peered forward. Turning back around with a sigh and shake of his head, he cursed himself for being so stupid. He could have sworn, for just a moment, he saw his Aunt's face through the cracked curtains.

"See something, Harry?" Mr. Weasley asked, trying to keep his tone casual, but Harry saw his eyes narrow in the rear view mirror. Harry shook his head, fidgeting in his seat and tightening his grasp on the seat belt.

"Er, no," Harry said, resisting the urge to peer out the window again. He glanced around the car, shifting his feet with a look of disgust when he noticed a spot of what looked like chunks of dried vomit. "Er, Mr. Weasley, is it safe? I mean, driving by ourselves like this and all?" Harry asked nervously, leaning forward to inspect the rest of the area near his feet.

Moody let out a rasping chuckle, turning to scrutinize him with his normal eye. "This little car right here has the best Anti-Jinx, Anti-Curse, and disillusion charms on it. Even if anyone does happen to catch a glance, it'll only look like a trick of their mind. Rather naive lot, them Muggles," Moody added, shaking his head and turning back around to face the front. Harry noticed Mr. Weasley's reassuring smile in the mirror.

"There are many more charms and protection placed on the car, Harry, don't worry," he said quietly, squeezing between two Muggle cars, almost exactly like the Knight Bus had done. Harry remained silent, gazing out the window at the many cars that passed by. Though they weren't going as fast as the Knight Bus, Harry had never seen a Muggle car go at this speed, and he idly wondered how they managed, even with magic. Putting his head against the glass, he sighed, wondering how Ron and Hermione were doing.

He suddenly remembered the letter, and the mass killing Hermione had briefly written about. He lifted his head from the window."Er, Mr. Weasley, Hermione told me about another incident," Harry ventured, not sure if the topic was open for discussion. He saw Mr. Weasley's face fall, and the older man sighed quietly, the sound drawn and hollow.

"Twenty seven Muggles and four witches killed, Harry," Mr. Weasley replied, zipping past a red light. Harry waited for him to go on. "Two of the witches were Ministry officials in my department trying to calm the Muggles down," Mr. Weasley continued. Harry's breath hitched in his throat, and he swallowed hard, frowning slightly.

"Fist fight broke out in a crowd of Muggles," Moody explained gruffly. "The witches from Arthur's department received a tip about some crazy lot of Dark wizards sicking snapping broomsticks on Muggles. Tried to confiscate 'em and one of the lunatics ended up blowing the whole plaza up. Killed 'em all within a ten foot reach, two of Arthur's witches got caught," Moody finished, noticing the pained look on Mr. Weasley's face.

"Sorry, Mr. Weasley," Harry said, feeling miserable for bringing the subject up. Mr. Weasley smiled, nodding his head at Harry in the mirror.

"Don't worry about it, Harry. I still have to make the official report tomorrow for the Ministry. Rufus Scrimgeuor is apparently more . . . ah, _prompt_ than Fudge was," he added, trying to keep the disdain for the old Minister of Magic out of his voice. Harry grinned at his seat, understanding full and well what Mr. Weasley meant. Fudge really hadn't been that good a Minister at all, at least in Harry's opinion.

Moody followed it up with another strange kind of laugh, and the trio fell silent for the rest of the ride. Harry chose not to comment when he saw the sun sink slowly beneath the horizon, and they were officially past the curfew. Then again, Moody being ex-Auror and Mr. Weasley being a Ministry Head, they were probably safe enough. He felt a yawn split his face, and he shifted comfortably against the door. He didn't want to bother Moody or Mr. Weasley about how much longer, so he rested his head against the window again, feeling his eyes drift shut.

* * *

_OK, this didn't go quite as I planned. This and the next chapter were supposed to be one together, but it was nearing eight or nine thousand words, so I decided to split it up._


	4. One Werewolf To Another

_I've finally figured out why I despise rap music and it's rather repetative wording. It's demeaning to women. Isn't that rather intellectual? I'm quite proud of my achievement, not that I have anything against those who do approve of rap music. I'm just not inclined to listen to to it._

_I'm so proud of myself._

_Clap for me!_

_

* * *

_

_One Werewolf to Another_

Harry woke with a start as the car jerked and chugged up to the front drive of the Burrow. It died with a hissing noise, leaving them a few feet short of their mark. Mr. Weasley stepped out first, inspecting the area cautiously before allowing Harry to climb out. Moody waved his wand at Harry's trunk, and it disappeared with a faint pop.

Mr. Weasley lead them toward the back door, although Harry didn't know why the front wasn't an option. He couldn't see anyone about, and their were lights shining from the windows in the front room. Darkness had fallen sometime during the trip, it seemed. Moody limped toward the back door, lifting his knuckles and rapping loudly on the wood.

"Who is it?" Mrs. Weasley's shrill voice demanded. There was a loud scuffling before a few other muffled voices could be heard.

"It's Allastor and I, dear. We've got Harry," Mr. Weasley replied. There was another muffled sound and then the door swung open, bathing the back door in a glowing yellow light. Mrs. Weasley rushed forward, barreling into Harry and giving him a hug.

"Harry, dear, how have you been?" she asked warmly, inspecting him with a critical face. "You look well enough," she answered for him, smiling once again as she ushered him in the door and to the front room. "The others are waiting in the kitchen," she added softly, shoving him gently. Harry nodded, passing through the room and stopping at the kitchen door. He could hear the faint sound of voices, and he took a deep breath before stepping through.

"Harry!" Hermione's shriek was his only warning before she flung herself at him, squeezing him tightly. Pulling back, she smiled up at him, patting his arm. "It's wonderful to see you! We're so sorry about not being able to visit! With all the-"

"Hermione," Ron admonished, pushing his way across the tables and dining room table to stand next to her. "Don't suffocate the poor man. Oi, mate, how have the Muggles been?" Ron asked, clapping him on the shoulder. Harry grinned, shrugging his shoulders.

"Can't say I miss it. And sorry about your dad's workers and all," Harry added. Ron shook his head, sighing heavily. It was then that Harry noticed another person hanging back. Ginny was standing silently next to a chair, looking solemnly at Harry. "It's nice to see you, Ginny," Harry said, clearing his throat. Ginny nodded, remaining silent.

"Er . . ." Ron said awkwardly, looking quickly to Hermione,who worried her bottom lip. "The wedding is before your birthday," Ron blurted quickly, giving Hermione another helpless look. This succeeded in drawing Harry's attention.

"I thought you said it was after my birthday," Harry commented. Ron's face filled with an odd smugness, and Harry saw Hermione roll her eyes.

"As I tried to tell you, it was still scheduled for before your birthday," Hermione said sarcastically, her voice filled with loathing. Harry frowned, looking to Ron, who grinned.

"Hermione's just mad that Fleur made Ginny-"

"Shut up, Ron," Hermione snapped, quickly cutting off the rest of Ron's sentance. Harry gave the pair an interested look, raising his eyebrows.

"What happened?" he asked. Ron's grin widened, and he glanced slyly at Hermione. Harry, who had a feeling the deathly look on Hermione's face was serious, quickly intervened, shaking his head roughly at Ron. "Nevermind. So the wedding is after my birthday? Where is it going to be held?" he asked curiously, hoping that it calmed Hermione.

She gave Ron a mulish look, but finally turned to Harry, her tone brightening. "In the field out back. Because of the curfew and whatnot, Bill wanted to have it here. He hasn't been too happy, though," she said, lowering her voice a notch. Harry frowned.

"Why not? He's getting married, isn't he?" Harry asked, frown deepening. Ron sighed, shaking his head as Ginny took a few steps toward them.

"Well, he got attacked by that Greyback, who's a werewolf. And when Lupin said he would have some wolfish qualities, well . . ." Ron trailed off, shaking his head once again. Harry felt another knot of anger form in the pit of his stomach as he remembered the werewolf on the astronomy tower. He had talked of biting children, even when the moon wasn't full.

"Oh, Lupin!" Hermione said suddenly, turning to Harry. "He stopped by a few days ago, with Bill and Fleur. He told me to tell you he understands about not being able to visit, and he's looking forward to seeing you at the wedding," Hermione added, smiling brightly. Harry nodded, feeling an immense swelling of relief. It was good to hear that Lupin didn't bear a grudge against him.

"By the way, Harry, do you know if Moody is still here?" Ron asked, peeking over Harry's shoulder at the closed kitchen door. Harry shrugged, shaking his head. Ron looked disappointed. "I think I'll go check. I'll see you in a minute," Ron said, moving past Harry and out the kitchen. Harry frowned, not sure what was going on.

Hermione snorted with laughter, her smile even wider. "What's going on?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.

"He failed his Apparation test," Ginny said, her voice full of amusement as she stood next to Harry and Hermione. Harry ignored the flip flop his stomach did as he fought down his laughter. "Probably wants toask Moody if he can retake it," Ginny added.

Harry grinned, feeling suddenly happy that Ginny was speaking to him again. "I suppose we should go check with Ron. Don't you have to take your test, too, Harry?" Hermione asked, leading them out the kitchen. Harry onlynodded, following her through the door, Ginny at his heels.

* * *

"Harry, dear, I'd like to talk to you." Harrylooked up, startled. He hadn't realized anyone else was out here. He was currently situated on the floor by the back broomshed, where he and Dumbledore had met but a year ago. 

He shifted nervously, making to rise, but Mrs. Weasley shook her head, surprising him and seating herself right next to him, albeit with some difficulty. Harry waited patiently, knowing what she would want to talk about, and trying to find a way to evade it.

"You've been quiet the past week," Mrs. Weasley commented, breaking the comfortable silence between them. Harry nodded, not sure how to answer without promoting discussion of Dumbledore. "You're thinking about Albus?" There was just enough lilt near the end of the sentance to make it seem like a question, but Harry knew it was more of a statement, and he nodded, swallowing hard.

"In a way, Harry, dear, you've taken over some of his responsibilities," she said quietly. Harry frowned, finally looking over at her.

"What do you mean?" he asked, his curiosity piqued. Mrs. Weasley chuckled, shaking her head and giving him an affectionate look. Harry waited for her to answer.

"I'll wager that not a day goes by that You-Know-Who doesn't cross your mind," she said, smiling fondly when his lips tightened and he looked away, swallowing once again. "Albus was the one to do it before. Always thinking of ways to stop him, ways to keep you safe," she added. Harry clenched his jaw.

"And, now, you do the same thing. I know you don't mean it. It's just what you have to do," Mrs. Weasley added, patting him gently on the shoulder. "I know you, Ron, and Hermione aren't children anymore, but that doesn't mean you have to go rushing to grow up. Take some time off, have some fun." Harry scowled, picking at a desperate blade of grass that had shot up through the dirt.

"And then something else will happen. Like Mr. Weasley's friends getting killed. And Bill getting bit by Greyback Or Sirius-" he choked out, shaking his head and blinking to avoid the sting in his eyes. Mrs. Weasley sighed, nodding her head.

"Don't ever think any of that was your fault, Harry. Even Sirius' death," she added firmly, seeing the look on his face. "They all chose their own actions. Sirius chose to go to the Department of Mysteries, Bill chose to go to Hogwarts to defend it, and Arthur's employees chose to follow their line of work. None of it is your fault," she stated.

Harry nodded, resisting the urge to wipe his nose on his sleeve. Mrs. Weasley stood up, using the broom shed for support. She looked across the field the wedding was to be held on, her eyes distant and glazed. "It was wonderful talking to you, Harry," she finally said, smiling warmly at him.

Harry grinned, nodding his head and standing as well. "You, too, Mrs. Weasley," he said,looking toward the door. Hermione and Ginny had come out together, whispering to each other. Mrs. Weasley started toward the door. She turned back, the fond smile still in place.

"Are you coming in?" she asked. Harry nodded, following her up to the door.

* * *

"I look like a bloody fool," Ron muttered darkly, tugging restlessly at the collar of his dress robes. Harry fought the urge to laugh, turning his face away and feigning interest in the multitude of presents stacked next to the back door. Mrs. Weasley had decided, with the unpredictable rain, that it was best to leave them inside. Ron gave him an irritated look, scowling even more. 

"Oh, come on, Ron. We wore them to the Yule Ball," Harry pointed out reasonably. This, however, did not lighten Ron's spirits, and he glowered at everyone who passed by. Harry, who was still waiting for an appearance by Lupin, ignored his horrible mood. He didn't feel all that confident in his own dress robes anyway.

"There you are." Both turned at the familiar sound of Hermione, who was slipping out of the back door. She wore a pastel pink dress that reached the floor, and her hair was swept up into a light bun on her head. Ron seemed speechless for a moment, his jaw hanging open. Harry nudged him in the ribs with his elbow and Ron snapped to attention, his rather sullen look falling back into place. Hermione gave him a strange look before turning to Harry.

"Dress robes," Harry muttered. Hermione mumbled something incoherent and rolled her eyes. Harry, who was staring wistfully at the back door, felt someone tap him on the shoulder, and he turned, expecting it to be Hermione or Ron. To his utter surprise, however, it was Gabrielle, Fleur's younger sister.

She had a soft colored yellow dress, and her hair was tied up much like Hermione's. He faltered, not sure what to say. She simply smiled, her even, white teeth gleaming. "I wanted to talk to you," she said, her voice soft. Harry nodded dumbly, looking to Ron and Hermione for help. Hermione arched a brow, and Ron smirked, leaving Harry with no option but to follow Gabrielle across the back yard to the table containing the large, multi-layered cake.

"I know this may seem very strange, Harry, but I wanted to thank you," Gabrielle started, her gaze fixed on the cake. Harry's brows drew together, and he stared at her in confusion. He didn't remember doing anything that deemed thanks, except for the Triwizard Tournament, and that had just been a large bit of stupidity on his part. Surely she couldn't mean that? "I know the Triwizard Tournament was a long time ago, but I still want to thank you," she added, smiling shyly at him.

Harry felt a fluttery feeling in his stomach, and he averted his eyes, trying desperately to ignore Ron, who was making love-sick faces behind Hermione's back. "Er," Harry started awkwardly. "I was just being stupid," he blurted, feeling like a complete dolt when she laughed lightly, her hair bouncing on her head.

"No you weren't. Diggory or Krum didn't stay to get the others. I think it was very noble of you," she added, a lilt in her voice. Harry felt that odd sensation in his stomach again, and he tried to squash the swell of gratitude he felt for being called noble. Of course, he didn't mention that his 'noble' act had cost him a lot ofpoints in the Tournament.

"Er, I dunno," he said, scratching the back of his head. Gabrielle opened her mouth to say something else, but a familiar voice cut her off.

"May I interrupt?" Harry turned around, a grin on his face. Remus Lupin was standing behind him, a rather amused smile on his face and a brow quirked.

"Professor!" Harry said brightly. Lupin smiled, although the action looked as if it caused immense pain. "Oh," Harry added hastily, turning back to Gabrielle. "Er, excuse me," he said, trying to keep the heated flush in his cheeks down when she smiled brightly and nodded, moving off to find her sister.

"A friend of yours?" Lupin asked quietly. Harry could hear the amusement in his voice.

"Er, I saved her . . . During the Triwizard tournament. Well, not saved her-"

"I understand," Lupin said, coughing lightly into his hand and giving Harry a bemused look. Harry chose to ignore his rather obvious show of sarcasm.

"So, how was St. Mungo's? Are you completely recovered?" Harry asked with concern, worry lining his brow. Lupin waved a hand dismissively, shaking his head and sighing.

"I'm as good as ever," he added, his voice sounding tired and weary. Harry gave him a skeptical look.

"You don't sound too well," he said dubiously. Lupin only sighed, motioning towards Mr. Weasley, who had raised himself on a rather wobbly stool. He swayed for a moment, and Harry could tell he was rather intoxicated. A goblet was clutched tightly in his hand, and he swayed once more before opening his mouth and letting out a rather impressive belch.

"'Scuse me, Molly, ladies," Mr. Weasley said, his voice heavy and slurred as he looked down at his wife, blinking a few times to clarify that it was, indeed, her. "Now, on to the 'portant stuff!" he added, raising the goblet to his lips and taking a hearty gulp.A few drops snaked their way down his chin and fell to his crisp dress robes, unnoticed by Mr. Weasley.

"I want to give a toast to my son, George, I mean . . . Bill! Yes, Bill is the one getting married! And I want to give a toast to him and his new wife . . ." His face took on a look of mingled concentration and frustration, and he leaned down, nearly toppling forward as he whispered loudly in his wife's ear. "What's her name, Molly, dear?"

Mrs. Weasley, looking highly mortified, flushed even darker than Harry had ever seen, and she tried to hideher mouth behind her hand as she said Fleur's name loudly. Mr. Weasley nodded, the smile forming on his face once again as he stood and raised the goblet to those gathered around the table once more.

"Yes, a toast to . . . Bill! And Fleur?" It came out as a question more than a statement, and he once again looked to Mrs. Weasley, who nodded jerkily once before hiding her face behind her hands. Finally, however, someone decided to take mercy on the rather drunken Mr. Weasley.

"Arthur, if I may?" Lupin asked, striding forward and pouring a meager amount of the alcoholic beverage into his goblet. Mr. Weasley looked confused for a moment, but he nodded his head, tripping to the floor. A rather exasperated Moody helped him up and dragged him to one of the chairs gathered around the table, depositing him none too gently.

Mrs. Weasley thoroughly scolded her husband as Remus Lupin took the floor. He gazed at Bill, his brows furrowed. "Bill," he started, blinking a few times in his perusal. "I realize that the recent changes you've undergone may be harsh and startling to deal with," he said, ignoring the rather snide snort Bill produced. "However, don't forget the rest who deal with the same thing. I was bitten at an early age, and I understand exactly what you have to go through. Though your face may be changed," Lupin added, indicating the scar running across Bill's cheek and the rather pointy canines that resulted from Fenrir Greyback's attack, "You are still the same man at heart, and it helps to remember that."

There was a pause and something in Bill's face shifted. It lost it's rather harsh countenace, and his eyes softened somewhat as he waited silently for Lupin to continue, unmoving and still. "So, Bill, in my toast, I give you this: From one werewolf to another, I wish you the best of luck with your marriage, and may you give Molly and Arthur wonderful grandchildren," Lupin finished, taking a small sip from his goblet.

Intense silence followed his toast, until Bill slowly stood up, clearing his throat loudly. "I want to apologize to everyone. I realize that I must have been a terrible sport these past few weeks, and I just want to say I'm sorry." Mrs. Weasley burst into tears and attempted to grab her son in a rather strangling hold from across the table while Mr. Weasley leaned forward in his chair, peering intently at Bill, as if seeing him for the first time.

"Now on with the wedding!" Mr. Weasley exclaimed, tossing his goblet. The liquid splashed over the sides, soaking a considerable amount of the tablecloth, and Mrs. Weasley hurried to dry the area. She disappeared not long after, dragging Fleur and Ginny along with her.

Harry looked to Hermione, who was seated to his right, Lupin on his left. Ron, who sat on the other side of Lupin, shot Hermione a victorious look. "Hermione, shouldn't you be going, too?" Harry asked, indicating Gabrielle, who had followed her sister. Hermione's lips tightened considerably, and her back stiffened. Ron snorted from the other side of Lupin.

"Fleur decided that Ginny would make a better bridesmaid, because she had the build and the hair. No offense to Hermione, of course, but Fleur also said that-"

"Shut. Up." Hermione's voice was clipped and tight, her spine rigid. Harry decided not to push it, and they lapsed into silence. Harry occasionally inquired about Lupin's situation, but he remained rather closemouthed, and refused to give him direct answers due to discrepency.

After a few more minutes of comfortable silence, Mrs. Weasley reammerged, followed closely by Ginny and Gabrielle. A polished man with a head of graying blond hair and sparkling eyes took Fleur, who stood a few inches taller, by the arm and smiled.

Mr. Weasley, who was still gently swaying, lead Bill to the alter. He whispered something to Bill, or at least it was supposed to be a whisper, and Mrs. Weasley's face colored, her hands flying to her mouth. "Arthur!" she admonished, swatting at his arm. Bill managed to keep a straight face.

After they were officially announced husband and wife, Bill took Fleur by the hand and led her up a small set of wooden steps to the staged dance floor. Mrs. Weasley dragged her husband up after them, wincing occasionally when Mr. Weasley would trod on her feet. Mr. Weasley would then bellow an apology, causing Fleur's mother and father to give him reproving looks.

Hermione had sulked in a far chair from the stage, her arms crossed over her chest as she cast a death glare on the tablecloth. Harry took a seat next to her, content to sit in silence. Hermione, however, surprised him with her rather abrupt sentance.

"Harry," she said, her voice slightly shaky. Harry frowned, not sure he would like where her question would lead. "Am I ugly?" she asked, her eyes locked with his. Harry's own eyes widened with shock and slight anger.

"Is that what Fleur told you?" he asked, shifting in his seat to face her. Hermione shook her head, wiping delicately at her eyes before shaking her head once again.

"No," she replied, sniffling. "It's just that, well, she picked Ginny over me, and I just thought-"

"You're not ugly, Hermione," Harry said firmly, cutting her off. She nodded once, sniffling even louder. Harry, afraid she would burst into tears, patted her arm awkwardly.

"Thank you, Harry," she said, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. Harry nodded, patting her arm again. They sat in silence for the rest of the reception, until Ron wondered over to them, his eyes fixed on Hermione.

"Oi, what are you two doing so far away from everyone?" he asked, creating a chair for himself with a flick of his wand. It turned out to be a rather wobbly, unstable stool however, and he gave them a sheepish look, opting for a regular chair instead. "Still don't have the hang of it," he muttered.

"Nothing," Hermione snapped. Ron looked taken aback at her hostile tone, and he looked helplessly at Harry, who gave him a warning look. Ron let the matter drop, thankfully, and they spent the rest of the time in silence until Mrs. Weasley called that it was time for bed.

It was past midnight, and neither of them, Ron included, protested. They trudged up the stairs, Harry muttering a sleepy goodbye to Hermione and Ginny at their room before taking the stairs slowly to Ron's attic getaway. Pulling his clothes off and putting on a pair of pajamas, he sank into his camp bed.

"G'Night, Ron," he said, in between a yawn. Ron snorted, already asleep on his own bed. Harry yawned again. He hadn't realized how tired he was until now. He rolled over on his bed, trying to ignore the slightly uncomfortable lumps before drifting off to sleep.

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I've decided that I need a beta. So, if you're interested, and have the preffered experience of good grammer and spelling tactics, please get in touch with me. I really will appreciate the effort.


	5. A Wizard Becoming

_**Still in search of a beta! Please, people, don't be shy! I really need it. It takes so freaking long to correct my own stuff, and then I don't like it anyways! I need a beta!**_

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_**A Wizard Becoming**_

**The morning of Harry's birthday turned out to be one of the worst of the summer. The cloudyskywas grey and overcast, desolate of sunshine. Rain pelted the windows with vicious tapping, awakening Harry from a rather peaceful slumber.**

**Surveying the room, he realized that Ron was already up and dressed. There was little light in the room, due to the lack of sun, and he fumbled around in the semi dark for his glasses. Slipping them on, he stood, stretching languidly and scratching absently at his head. After pulling on clean, unrumpled clothes and tucking his wand into the waistband of his jeans, he made his way downstairs.**

**The first thing he noticed was the odd, stifling silence of the house. He hadn't heard any noise from any of the rooms on his way downstairs, either, and he was starting to get slightly worried. He was pretty sure that the Weasley's wouldn't leave anywhere without waking him, or at least leaving notice, and from checking the living room, he found nothing.**

**He was making his way toward the kitchen when he heard the sound of muffled voices. He was alarmed at first, not recognizing the voice. But then there was the distinct giggle of Fleur Delacour, and Harry felt a grin tug at his lips as he pushed the kitchen door open.**

**There was a rather deafening chorus of "Happy Birthday!", and many figures descended upon him. Fred and George gave him rather hearty slaps on the back, Ron grinned awkwardly, and Hermione gave him a quick hug. Ginny offered him a rather tepid smile before Mrs. Weasley appeared, pulling him into a rather tight embrace. Harry noticed that her eyes were glistening and wet, but he didn't remark. Fleur kissed each cheek, and Mr. Weasley shook his hand firmly.**

**Harry was disappointed when he noticed Lupin, Bill, and many members of the Order missing. Hermione, catching his crestfallen look, smiled brightly, motioning to the door. "They're all taking turns patrolling. Don't worry, they'll be in when Moody deems it 'safe'," Hermione added, squeezing his hand gently when he nodded.**

**They proceeded to the dining room, where a two-layer cake was awaiting them. Harry, after, gaping in awe at the rather considerable size, was finally shoved gently forward by Mrs. Weasley.**

**"Go on, Harry, dear. Remus and Alastor won't be in for another few minutes, and Kingsley is coming later, so do go on," she added, gesturing at the seventeen burning candles situated in the cake. Harry nodded, blinking several times.**

**Closing his eyes and basking in the slight warmth of the burning candles, he entertained the thought of making a wish, as he had done as a child. He pondered it fora moment, his eyes squeezing tightly shut in concentration. What _would _he wish for?**

**_For Voldemort to be gone. For Ron and his family to be out of danger. For Hermione and her family to be safe. For all those lives taken to not be in vain. _He exhaled in a quick, jerky breath, succeeding in smearing a bit of the wax from the candles onto the cake's top layer of frosting. Something that didn't deter Ron or Ginny from reaching for them, he noted.**

**"Are you okay, Harry, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked softly, squeezing his shoulder affectionately. Harry nodded, plastering a smile onto his face as he faced the decent stack of wrapped gifts. Mrs. Weasley, noticing the direction his thoughts had taken, gave him a look of mock reprove. "We have to wait for Remus and the others before we start with your gifts, dear," she admonished, forcefully steering him away from the stack and to a chair, where he was instantly barraged with an onslought of questions.**

**"So, can you do magic now, mate?" Ron asked, grinning broadly as he gestured at Harry. Harry frowned, looking up at Ron with a furrowed brow.**

**"I dunno. I reckon I can. I'm seventeen and all, right?" He reached for his wand, pulling it out and pointing it towards one of the abandoned candles on the table. Pausing momentarily, he looked to Hermione. "What should I do?" he asked, at a loss as he stared blankly at the candle.**

**Hermione smiled, shrugging her shoulders. "Just give it a wave," she suggested, nodding her head at his wand and then proceeding to the candle. Harry shrugged as well, brandishing his wand with a slight flick of his wrist.**

**To his utter surprise, and Ron and Hermione's as well, the candle hopped to life, the top sparking into a myriad of gold and red colors. It did a small jig around the table before sizzling out, toppling onto it's side and leaving a small burn mark on the polished wooden table.**

**"You made it dance?" Ron asked, raising an eyebrow. Harry grinned, elated that his first time of adult magic had worked.**

**"Who cares what it did," he insisted. "I did magic!"**

**Hermione frowned, giving him a slightly strange look. "Yes, Harry, and you've done magic before . . ." She trailed off, looking meaningfully at him. Harry lost some of his enthusiasm, but the pleased look still remained as he turned back to the candle.**

**"Yeah, but never outside of school without something happening to me," he replied absently, staring at the candle with a deep frown. "How do I make it do other stuff? You two have already had practice at this," he added, jabbing Ron in the ribs when he chortled with glee at his supposed advantage.**

**"Well, usually you just concentrate. Didn't you ever pay attention in Transfiguration?" Hermione, realizing how foolish the question sounded, rolled her eyes, shaking her head. "Nevermind. Anyways," she continued, her tone turning businesslike as she withdrew her own wand and aimed it at the candle. "You have to concentrate. Unless the spell is an actual incantation, it's all in your head." With that, she swished her wand about, and the candle sparked to life once again, dancing about happily and doing a few impressive leaps before it waddled over to the cake, floating about before landing unsteadily in the frosting.**

**"See?" Hermione asked, indicating the candle. "Just concentrate. Now, you try," she urged, retracting her wand. The candle went out with a wiff of smoke, and Harry sighed, his wand aimed and at the ready once again.**

**The candle came to life, it's flame reaching skyward in a brilliant flash of carmine light. It burnt out quickly, though, causing the candle to melt into a smoking puddle of wax that dried quickly and became an auxiliary part of Mrs. Weasley's table.**

**"Watch you don't burn yourself, Potter," a familiar voice growled, and Harry turned to face Alastor Moody. He limped forward, both magical and normal eye fixated on Harry's disappointed face. "Better learn to control that spurt, there," he added, nodding at the cooling wax.**

**Harry fought off a surge of disappointment, casting the wax a scathing look. He apparently needed more practice. He looked back up at Moody. "Professor Lupin and Shacklebot here, yet?" he asked, giving his gifts an eager look.**

**Moody let out that barking, grinding laugh and nodded his head, thumbing behind him at the pair, who were conversing quietly, their heads together. Harry stood up, nodding at Moody once before making his way over to Remus Lupin and Kingsley Shacklebot.**

**"Professor," Harry greeted, grinning widely. Lupin laughed, waving his hand in a dismissive matter.**

**"I'm not a professor anymore, Harry," he said good naturedly. Kingsley Shacklebot gave Harry a firm handshake, offering a small, albeit tight, grin.**

**"Heard you're taking your Apparition test tomorrow?" he said, looking briefly past Harry to Moody, who was talking with Ron. Harry's eyes widened, and he nodded dumbly. He had completely forgotten about the Apparition test, what with the wedding and all.**

**"Yeah, with Moody," he said, glancing back as well. Moody clapped a rather pleased looking Ron on the shoulder before limping off toward Mr. Weasley, who looked browbeat and worse for the wear.**

**"Good luck, then. I'm off to see Arthur, update him on the grounds check," Kingsley muttered, excusing himself and starting off after Moody. Lupin spared them a passing glance, but quickly focused on Harry.**

**"So, Harry, how does it feel to be an actual adult?" Lupin asked conversationally. Harry grinned, shrugging his shoulders in an undecided manner.**

**"Not sure. Haven't really done anything but make a candle dance," he said sardonically, causing Lupin to chuckle quietly. "I suppose I'll have to practice," Harry added grudgingly with a sigh. "And then there's my test tomorrow," he said, giving his wand, now in his pocket, a helpless look. Lupin laughed lightly, giving Harry's shoulder an affectionate squeeze.**

**"Don't worry. You'll pass brilliantly. And it does take practice to get the hang of your wand, especially without using incantations. Just between you and me," Lupin added, leaning closer and lowering his voice a few octaves, "James and I actually burned half of his wardrobe in our first attempts," he said, his voice and eyes filled with laughter.**

**Harry managed a laugh, picturing a younger version of his father and a not so weary Lupin with their wands raised, staring in shock at the wardrobe in flames in front of them.**

**"Harry, dear!" Mrs. Weasley said, coming toward him. "I suppose you can open your presents now," she said, steering him toward the pile. Fred and George, who were shaking a small box, looked up guiltily, dropping the parcel and taking a step back before Mrs. Weasley could notice. Harry grinned, but chose not to raise Mrs. Weasley's ire by informing her that the twins had been shaking out his presents. "Go on, dear," Mrs. Weasley said, gesturing at the closest gift.**

**From Lupin, he received a rather stunning set of adult wizard's robes, in the same scarlet color of Gryffindor. From Hermione, he received a volume of advanced defensive and offensive techniques, a wand holster from Ginny that buckled onto his wrist, an assortment of different kinds of Shield Hats and Cloaks from Fred and George, a new cloak from Ron, and a sweater with a large, golden H on the front from Mrs. Weasley. Kingsley Shacklebot promised to give him thorough lessons in his spare time, and Moody insisted that his present was getting Harry an Apparition test without an appointment("You know how swamped that ruddy place is now? You're lucky you're not on the two month waiting list!"). Although Harry wasn't complaining.**

**After the mess was cleared and the room settled down, Harry found himself face to face with Moody again, who had a rather keen look in his gnarled eye. He studied Harry silently for a moment before erupting into a harsh, scratchy fit of laughter, tossing his head back.**

**Harry, not sure what had brought on this sudden insight of mirth, simply stared, perplexed. "Er, Professor Moody, are you all right?" he asked, concern for the man's sanity evident in his voice. Moody quieted somewhat, fixing Harry with another piercing look.**

**"You ready, boy?" Moody asked, his tone solemn. Harry fidgeted uncomfortably under his close scrutiny, toying with the wand attached to his new holster. He shrugged, not sure where Moody was going with this.**

**"Ready for what?" he asked, giving Moody a fleeting look before focusing back on his wand. Moody let his words hang in the air for a moment.**

**"For your test, Potter," he said finally, his voice hard and edgy. Harry sighed visibly in relief. Although he appreciated the effort, he really didn't want to hear another lecture on how safe he had to be now that he was an adult and Dumbledore was gone and Hogwart's wasn't particularily safe even though Minerva McGonagall was a great witch.**

**Taking a moment to sort his thoughts out, Harry shrugged once again. "I remember some of the stuff from our classes last year," he hedged, deciding that a route of circumlocution would work best in this case. Moody, however, would have none of it.**

**"Are you ready, Potter?" he asked, his tone slightly more aggressive. Harry nodded, steeling himself for more harsh words. Moody, though, seemed to have finished with his censure, and he nodded his head. "Good. You're on your own if you fail," he added.**

**"Yes, sir," Harry replied automatically. He had no idea why Moody was being so caustic, but he decided not to push the issue. He sorted through his brain for a new topic. "Er, Professor," he ventured, his eyes trained on Ron, who was talking to Hermione across the room.**

**"I don't know about being no professor, boy," Moody growled, narrowing his eyes and following Harry's gaze. Harry nodded absently, still focused on Ron.**

**"Er, sir," he faltered for a moment, "Ron failed his test, right?" Moody nodded. "So, is he coming with us, tomorrow, I mean?" Harry asked. Moody let out one of those abrasive chuckles but nodded nonetheless.**

**"Weasley's coming with us, Potter. He better ruddy well pass, too, or I'll have his neck," he muttered, sending Ron a scowl before his magical eye swiveled back around to focus on Harry. "Well, boy, I'll see you tomorrow, then. Be ready by ten, your test is at eleven," he said gruffly, giving Harry another sharp nod before he limped toward Arthur Weasley. Harry stared after him for a moment.**

**"Tomorrow," he said grimly, swallowing hard. He had neglected to tell Moody that he remembered absolutely nothing from those classes from the Ministry.**

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To say that he was nervous would be that biggest understatement of the year. He was beyond nervous, beyond trepidation, beyond anything. He was plain out _frightened_.

**He wanted so badly to pass this test, and in a last ditch effort to load his brain with at least some thought of Apparition, he had approached Ron and Hermione, who had passed her test long ago, and asked for advice on what he should do.**

**Hermione had immediately chastised him for not paying attention, but Ron had launched into a lengthy discussion of what was expected, how he had to Apparate, and so on. Hermione had then dutifully reminded him of the dreaded D's of last year.**

**"Destination, determination, and deliberation, Harry," Hermione had said, implanting the three words quite thoroughly into his head.**

**Harry desperately tried to remember the three D's as he tagged along beside Moody, who was weary and cautious, magical spinning about nonstop in it's perusal of the street. They entered the phone booth silently, Harry staring at the shabby, rundown buildings around the street.**

**They had taken another highly charmed and protected car to a side street in London, where Mr. Weasley and another unknown Ministry official had dropped them off at an inconspicuous corner. Moody had dragged Harry(Ron was to come at a later time, due to the backlog)in a few circles and other odd patterns along the streets to throw off an followers, though he assured Harry there were none, and had then marched up toward the phone booth, shoving Harry inside and slamming the door.**

**Punching in a few buttons, a womanly voice echoed in Harry's ear, asking them to state their business. Moody growled out something about Apparition, and they were then orderedto wait for their admission that would comein a small tray that protruded from the bottom of the pay phone. A second later, and two silver badges were in the tray, each bearing their name and 'Apparition License' in bold letters across the badge.**

**Harry pinned it to the front of his robes, the one's he had received from Lupin, and the phone booth clicked loudly. It dropped jerkily a few feet, causing Moody to lose his balance slightly and go smashing into the door of the booth. Muttering a few curses, he banged loudly on the booth, and the rest of their descent was smooth and uninterrupted.**

**The phone booth stopped after quite a bit of slow, tedious traveling, and Harry and Moody were admitted into the Atrium.**

**Harry stopped dead in his tracks, his heart racing as he fought to keep his breath steady. How long had it been since they had come down these same steps, passed the same fountain, and the same fireplaces lining the walls?**

**"Keep it together, Potter," Moody said sternly. Harry remained silent as the approached the golden gates past the Fountain of Magical Brethren. A man different from the last time Harry had been here took their wands. After registering them and returning them, they were allowed onto the lift.**

**"Level Six," Moody said roughly, and the lift slowly began it's rise. Harry, having been only in the Department of Mysteries and Mr. Weasley's office, had no idea where they were when the lift let them off and into a wide room filled with fireplaces.**

**"Floo regulation and the sort," Moody offered, steering him past the room. Harry briefly noted that there was a drizzle in the magical windows, and he wondered why such gloomy weather had been chosen. "Here we are, Potter," Moody said abruptly, stopping outside a door. He opened it and shoved Harry inside.**

**"Potter, Harry?"**

**Harry looked up, startled at the voice. A middle aged man in gloomy grey robes moved forward, his tone and countenace filled with somberness. He offered a hand, which Harry shook, and then inclined his head at Moody.**

**"I'll take him from here, Alastor," the man said. Moody nodded, turning to Harry.**

**"I'll be outside when you're done, Potter." With that, he was out the door and gone, leaving Harry alone with the strange man.**

**"My name is Fillius McGee, Potter, and I'll be your Apparition instructor for the test. Please leave all heavy objects behind in this tray," the man said in a monotone, a small wooden box appearing. Harry, not wanting to split with his wand, simply stared. McGee sighed and the box disappeared.**

**"You will proceed to Room Two, where another trained official will be waiting. Please note that any incident of splinching or seperation of body parts from the body will result in immediate relocation to St. Mungo's, where all bills and fees will be directed to the applicant. If the applicant should end up inside or in between a wall by chance, the full dangers of the test are undertaken, and the bills and fees of the removal from said wallwill be sent to the applicant. These are the terms and agreements of theDepartment of Magical Transportation.Understand?" the wizard asked, staring at Harry blankly.**

**Harry nodded once again. _Determination, deliberation, and . . . What was the other D?_ he thought frantically, glancing at the door Fillius McGee was opening. "Please proceed to Room Two." _Decision? No, that doesn't make sense . . . D, I need a word that starts with D_, he thought, forgetting for the moment that McGee was still waiting. "Please proceed to Room Two," he said, a note of impatience creeping into his rather monotonous voice.**

**Harry moved forward in a start, managing to trip over the hem of his robes. Ignoring the rather patronizing look McGee gave him, he bolted through the door, emerging into a bare room with white washed walls and a heavy metal door. A plump woman waited in the corner.**

**"Harry Potter?" she asked kindly, raising an eyebrow. Harry nodded stupidly, realizing that he hadn't spoken at all the entire time he had been at the Ministry.**

**"Yes," he croaked, feeling his face flush with embarassment when the witch gave him an understanding look. "I'm Harry Potter," he added, his voice more steady. The witch only smiled.**

**"Now, I'll be explaining the distance of Apparition to you, so listen closely," she said, whipping her wand out. After pointing out a few places in the air, Harry was presented with a visual. After a lengthy lecture about the importance of passing a test, and the order _not _to panic in case of accidental splinching, the witch waved her wand, and the visual disappeared.**

**"Now," she said, turning to him with a bright smile. "Apparate," she said, pocketing her wand and clapping her hands together. Harry closed his eyes, careful not to concentrate too hard.**

**_Remember the visual_, he thought, recalling the empty, treeless meadow with the small creek. _Determination, deliberation, and . . . Destination! The other word was destination!_ he thought. There was a faint pop, and he felt as if his body was being tugged in all directions. _Concentrate, concentrate_, he chided himself.**

**The splitting feeling stopped, and he cracked his eyes open. He was aware of the sound of rushing water and the chirping of birds as they flitted about from branch to branch, whistling happily to each other. Noiselessly, the Ministry witch appeared at his side, a delighted smile on her face.**

**"Excellent, Mr. Potter! Now, if you could only Apparate back . . ."**

**The bare, white walls, the heavy metal door, the empty feel of the room . . . This time the pop was louder, although the splitting feeling wasn't as intense. He opened his eyes, and jumped back.**

**He was standing mere inches from the wall of the room, his knuckles skimming the surface as he hopped back. The witch moved behind him, and he turned, looking for some note of approval. To his relief, the smile was still on her plump face.**

**"Excellent, Mr. Potter. Just one more destination, and I'll send you through," she added, beckoning him with her hand as she created another visual. Harry, elated at the thought of having passed half his test, payed attention closely for one of the first times in his life, and when the witch waved her wand and the visual disappeared, he was prepared, and he closed his eyes . . .**

**The pop, and he was standing in the middle of an empty highway bereft of cars and people. He opened his eyes, and the witch was smiling at him from the safety of the side of the road.**

**"You were supposed to land here, dear," she said, indicating the position next to her, "But no worries. There was no splinching. Now, back to the Ministry," she urged, giving him that sweet smile. Harry closed his eyes.**

**_Determination, deliberation, and destination,_ he thought, rather pleased with himself. There was the now familiar pop and he was once again standing in the empty room, albeit much safer away from the wall then his previous result.**

**"Brilliantly done, Mr. Potter!" the witch said excitedly, clapping her hands in glee once more. Harry nodded, exhilerated and out of breath. He had passed! Or so he thought . . . He gave the joyous witch a puzzled frown. "Through here," she urged, shoving him gently through the metal door, which had swung open at the touch of the witch's wand.**

**Harry had no choice but to go through, and he was in yet another room, this time one more colorful. It had a large book case lining the walls, and there was a wizened old man behind the desk, stooped over a quill and parchment, a half empty ink bottle next to his hand.**

**"Excuse me," Harry said, taking a few tentative steps forward. The scratching of the quill continued, and Harry felt a slight stab of annoyance. Surely the man wasn't deaf. "Excuse me," he said, raising his voice to a louder pitch. The man stopped, looking up, his face filled with annoyance.**

**"Can't you see I'm busy, boy?" he snapped, completely ignoring Harry and returning back to his parchment. Harry frowned. The man stopped writing once again, though he didn't look up. He shoved his wire rimmed glasses further up the bridge of his nose.**

**"I was told to come in here after I passed my test," Harry said stiffly, offended by the man's brusque tone and insulting attitude. The man finally looked up again, giving Harry an appraising look.**

**"I see. Name?" he barked, his tone no less insulting. Harry gritted his teeth.**

**"Harry Potter." The momentary lapse of the quill scratching against parchment was the only sign that the man recognized the name, and Harry was relieved that the old codger decided not to make a spectacle of it.**

**"All right, Potter, here's your license," the man said callously, thrusting a small card toward Harry. He snatched it up and clutched it tightly in his hands as the man stood up and cleared his throat. "I hereby declare that Harry Potter, born July 31, is alloted the use of Apparition wherever it may be accepted." With that, he sat back down, officially dismissing Harry.**

**"Well, go on," he said finally, realizing that Harry was still there. Harry, having no choice, turned and went back through the metal door, which appeared normal and wooden on the old man's side. He was greeted by Fillius McGee and the pleasant witch, who shook his hand before patting his on the shoulder.**

**"License," McGee said, holding his hand out. Harry deposited it in his outstretched palm. McGee pulled his wand out and pointed it at the License. An upraised official Ministry seal formed in the corner, and the License was back in Harry's palm once again. "You are now able to Apparate. Congratulations."**

**"Through this door, Mr. Potter," the witch said, unaffected by the man's empty tone. Harry followed her back out the door, and was relieved to see Moody standing against the wall, his leg drawn up, and his arms crossed against his chest. "Alastor," the witch said, greeting Moody. Moody observed the happy look on the witch's face and the proud one Harry was wearing before breaking out into a grin. Harry personally thought it resembled a grimace, but he didn't voice his opinion when Moody clapped him on the shoulder.**

**"I passed, sir," Harry said, grinning broadly and flashing his License. Moody kept the grimacing smile on his face and nodded his head.**

**"'Course you did, boy. Now, hurry up, I've got to get Weasley in here after Brown finishes upher test," he muttered, nodding to the witch before leading Harry back down the halls and toward the lift.**

**"So, Potter, you ready to Apparate?" Moody asked, stepping out of the phone booth. He glanced around, and Harry noticed that he clutched his wand under the cover of his cloak. The street was also empty of Muggles or any other being, and Harry nodded.**

**The Burrow and it's heavenly smells and bustling noise came to mind, and Harry smiled faintly as the three D's floated through his mind.**

_**Determination, deliberation, and destination . . .**_

**

* * *

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_Oh, boy, that was strenuous. All in one night! Be proud! And I still need a beta! _

_**Oh, and if you have any ideas as to locations of a Horcrux, or anything that can be asserted into that informational area, please note me in a review or something! Alas, I've come to a plot hole in my story . . .**_

_**Anyways, beta, people, beta! I'm desperate!**_


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